Nephilim
by Dmfritsc
Summary: A young girl is pronounced as a nephilim after years of believing she simply has a gift. Her true destiny is thrown into her face, her fate with fighting Lucifer, helping regain a control of heaven, but a particular demon who has watched her for years interferes...
1. Chapter 1: Crowley

_**Author's Note: Okay! So, I've never written a Supernatural fic. This is my first one. I've wanted to do it for a few months, but never had the time. I know I have a few other fics to finish. I am on a 2 week break from school so I plan on updating each one. (whoa.) So. Here we go… I tried to proofread this, because I am terrible at posting things without proofreading. Like really bad. Thanks for reading and thanks to those of you who have stuck by me! It's been really hard to write with nursing school and all! I am also only on episode 6.10 of Supernatural, and I understand nephilim have briefly been brought up? These are not going to be the same. I'll explain them more in the story as it goes along. Thanks for reading! – Dee **_

** X**

Addison

** X**

**END OF DECEMBER, JUST OUTSIDE OF DENVER : PRESENT**

_This is the stupidest damn thing in the world that I have ever done. I mean, honestly, this takes the lot. I literally have zero ideas as to why I am walking to my potential death for some egotistical jackass who views me as nothing more than a pawn to keep his ass alive._ _What. Am. I doing? Do I really think he'll open up to me after this? That everything will be normal again?_ I stop and feel the shrill icy air of December, listening to silence in the snow covered field I've been walking through for almost an hour. I close my eyes, just to hear his voice. "_You'll always find me, love_…" I stop trying to feel everything, all of the wind, the cold, the smells – I focus on him. My body involuntarily raises on me on my toes, pushing my reception into the unseen dimensions of our world even farther… I search for that hot, empty, swirling aura of his, the uniqueness of it: a dim light rimmed in darkness, but I find nothing. _**Goddamn you, Crowley.**_

** X**

College was never the best of times for me. I was away from my dads – _yes, I said dads, as in plural, as in I have two fathers _– and I was more confused by my behavior and senses than ever before. Knowledge in class came easily, I found that I could study for a mere hour or so and retain almost everything. And like most young adults, partying became my thing on the weekends. Friday and Saturday were strictly for partying and nothing more. Well, until that one particular weekend….

**MID-SEPTEMBER, BOSTON UNIVERSITY FRAT HOUSE : 2 YEARS AGO**

I held my head up over the sink, trying to erase all of the energy surging around inside of me. The water was on full blast, but it still wasn't loud enough to help me focus. The energies in the house were making me extremely moody, like usual – the sexual tension, the anger, the stress, and the elation. The usual feel was off and I could sense it, I just couldn't find out the reason why. Steam coated the mirror slowly before me. Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead. I hummed lowly, focusing on a ball of nothingness. The heat only intensified the vibrations I had in the house. Agitated, I undid a few small buttons on my henley even more than what I usually did.

"Damn," I muttered, hunching over the sink again as a wave of nausea struck. Not even daring to lie down on the floor, I texted the only guy who I knew that lived in the frat house, Alex Johnson. I texted him a short message:

_Laying down in your room, not feeling so well._

Dragging myself out of the hallway bathroom and into a sweaty, hot crowd of people, I budged my way up the stairs and found Alex's room. I flicked the lights off and let the slightly cooler air rush over me. He wouldn't care if I was in his room, we had been friends the last few years and he was more than likely heading off campus to spend the weekend with his girlfriend, Julie, anyway. My back fell against the door as I shut and locked it. Pointing my hand at his fan, I turned my wrist by a hair and the fan began to oscillate. Smirking, I plopped onto his bed, face down, and kicked my shoes off. The beat from the overly loud music pounded the insides of my head feverously. "Maybe I should just walk home," I muttered into the pillow.

"Why? When things were _just_ heating up," voiced a smooth, low voice from the doorway. _Damn the faulty locks in this place._ I could tell who it was by the feel. His aura made my gut knot in an unpleasant way. He felt like a deep, dark blue sea, rough and relentless.

"Calum," I groaned. "What may I do for you?" I asked the question, already knowing the answer. Calum was the parasite of my social life. The one man who couldn't take no for an answer. His motto seemed to be: "one day she will give in if you ask enough times." And it worked for him, most of the time, except with me. I had my respect and he had his list of endeavors. I refused to even flirt with the idea, the thought of him touching me was repulsing. I couldn't even stand to be in his presence for more than a few minutes. He oozed guilt, lust, and sadness. Calum sighed as I turned over, pulling my knees to my chest. He relaxed his bulky shoulders and stretched out of a wrinkled, sweat covered Oxford shirt to reveal a tight, white tank top.

"What _may _you?" he asked, scrunching his light eyebrows. "I can think of a few things."

"Well, you already know my answer to whatever perversion you have in mind." An icy chill pricked down my spine as he continued to walk to the bed.

"But you haven't even heard it yet." His voice was slightly whiny. Nausea rolled my stomach, my eyes watching his movements carefully. He yanked the tank top off carefully over his styled hair. His beige colored skin was tanned all over from hours of track and football practice. Had I not been repulsed by him the sight would have been nice, but it was far from that.

"I don't want to hear it," I answered matter of factly, trying to reassure myself that he wasn't the type to harm women. Calum's aura overwhelmed me as he stopped just beside the bed. The heat from his position was almost like a sauna. I tried to breathe in, but the hot air wasn't satisfying. I pushed my hand out and tried to turn the fan up to no avail.

"No one even has to know…" he whispered, barely audible over the sound of him unbuckling his belt. More of his aura poured in, I started to feel dizzy, light headed, on the verge of fainting. The water was pulling me down, under… I was drowning… I searched the walls of the room for something heavy to pull onto him… nothing.

"Stop," my voice ordered. Calum chuckled.

"Or _what_?" His pants hit the floor with a light thud.

"I fucking mean it." I tried my damnedest not to quiver. Swallowing, I scooted into the wall, trying to put distance between us.

"_Or what_?" he taunted again. My eyes stayed on him, regardless of the rest of the rocking that was happening around the room.

"I'll hurt you." Without a second thought, my hands curled into fists before me. I knew nothing about protecting myself, but I figured it was worth a shot. Calum laughed loudly, obnoxiously. He even threw his head back for exaggeration. The room steadied for a moment and I threw myself off the foot of the bed, desperate to get to the door. Growling, Calum dove after me. His weight hit me like a cannonball in the hull of a ship. An involuntary grunt escaped from between my lips as I collided with the ground. His hands wrapped themselves around my wrists tightly. I bucked my hips into his and he groaned sexually. Panic spread in my body. "No," I shouted forcefully, using all of the air I could find.

"_Yes_," he growled, turning me onto my back. I finally understood where all of the angry heat was coming from after facing him. It ripped out of him like a giant angry fire storm from hell, lashing out in every direction.

"No. Please. _Please stop_," I cried. Calum laughed. His body weight felt like a crushing boulder, the dirt over my coffin.

"I can't wait for this-" his teeth bit into my neck. Resisting the urge to cry out I bit down on my lower lip. There was a sound, almost like a coke can opening, and a drastic shift in the air. The heat was still there, but this one had a bit of light to it, some innocence still left. It was dark, but not nauseating.

"Now," stated a gravelly voice. "I'm no expert on women – hell knows I've pissed off my fair share in my day, but I believe the lady said _no_." I closed my eyes in relief as Calum's hold on my wrists released. The voice was accented, but I couldn't place it. I strained to hear more and feel more…

"And who in the fuck are you?" asked Calum, only slightly lifting his body off of mine.

"I go by a lot of names. None of which concern you right now. But if you don't listen to her, you're destined to find one out rather shortly."

"I'm not a guy you wanna fuck with, buddy." Calum rose from me and stood facing the voice. I sat up a few moments later. The man that the voice belonged to was standing in the corner beside the door. He had a haze of smoke around him, with the cigar jutting out of the side of his mouth. I could barely make out his all black suit in the darkness of the room. The hair on his head was short, slightly receding. I could also make out the goatee on his face. He smirked and pulled the cigar out of his mouth.

"Oh, 'buddy'?" the man asked, intrigued.

"Yeah." The man waved a hand before his face, his eyes turned a deep, blood red color, even the whites were red. His expression was no longer smug. It was a deep scowl. Calum cursed and backed away, tripping over my legs in the process. He fell to the bed hard before I had time to stand. The man in black appeared at the bedside, hunched over Calum. Had the man not been directing his threats to Calum alone, I almost certainly would have done the same.

"You listen to me, you pathetic wanker," the man warned. "_**I **__am_ the alpha dog, you understand me? I'm only going to tell you this once, and one time only. You so much as look in her direction again – I will fucking end your miserable waste of life. I'll pull you into hell myself, got it?" Calum nodded his head, his mouth agape. "Answer me."

"I understand."

"Good then get the fuck out," the man growled. Calum popped up from the bed and bolted from the room, clad only in his boxers. He waited until the door closed completely before speaking. "Are you alright?" he asked, eyes returning to normal. I tried not to bow my head, but it was almost impossible.

"I believe so… thank you," I replied, adjusting the waist of my jeans.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't not do anything."

"Right, so do you always hide out in random frat rooms waiting for rapists to make their move?" He smiled, chuckling, a wide toothy grin on his face.

"I heard him as I was walking by."

"Ah."

"And you know how shoddy the locks are here."

"Yeah, they're absolute shit." We looked silently around the room before he spoke again.

"The name's Crowley," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Addison Mielke." I put my hand into his, prepared to shake it.

"Pleasure to meet you," he added, bending to kiss my hand. I flushed at the unusual gesture.

"Same to you – Crowley? Is it just Crowley?"

"Yes." I smiled and nodded, not trying to be too pushy with a man who saved me from God only knew what.

"No offense, but you don't blend in well dressed like that at a frat house party."

"Ah, yes, I just got off work about an hour ago. My younger brother invited me. He insisted I'd be fine, but I agree that I am very much overdressed."

"And what is it that you do? If you don't mind my asking."

"I'm a president of a life insurance agency." My eyes widened. A small laugh choked its way out of my mouth. I could feel my dads inside of my head, each one throwing advice at me. _"He's too old," my dad would say. "No, he's perfect. He's wearing a suit, he just kissed her hand for Christ's sake, shut up, Mike," would be the toss in from of my pop's side._

"That's very impressive." I had no other words. There was nothing much else I could say. I didn't know shit about life insurance and a president? I internally scoffed. Way in over my head. "Is there any way I could show you a thank you? Perhaps dinner?"

"Oh, please, love, knowing you're safe is enough for me. However –" he smiled. "How would you like to join me tomorrow evening for dinner? My treat." _My dad started in my head again, "don't take more than you can give, it'll bite you in the ass… it always does…"_ I tried to feel his aura again, but the darkness in it and dry heat made it hard to see anything. The dim light at his core was barely above the glow of a single candle in an empty cornfield.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy tomorrow." My dad was right. What could I offer this man? He had infinitely more money than I did, he was older, maybe even _too_ old and here I am – in college.

"Another time then."

"Yes," I added quickly, seeing a spark of his red eyes in my mind. I definitely never wanted those directed at me. I stared at him curiously, tilting my head as he spoke. He was talking about some sort of time frame, his amounts of availability, but I couldn't hear him. My entire focus was on pinning him down. I wanted to understand what he was. He cleared his throat and I almost jerked out of shock and embarrassment. "Jesus, I am so sorry."

"Don't be," he told me coolly, cigar back in his mouth. "See anything you like?" His eyebrows raised into a cheeky expression.

"I was – uh – looking at your eyes," I stumbled, praying my cheeks weren't on fire.

"_And?_"

"I could have sworn they were red earlier."

"They were," he told me, while staring at the floor. "I can make them do that. I'm like you in that way."

"Excuse me?" I asked, cautiously, wondering if I should have fled with Calum. Someone knowing about my gift was never a good thing. He smiled slowly and looked back up at me.

"I know about that special gift of yours." A deep knot wretched in my stomach. Suddenly, I was nauseous all over again. I felt as if I was standing on the top of a skyscraper, inches from the edge, peering down at the traffic below. Fear must have been eating my face, because he was quick to hold his hands up in a calming way. "It's okay, there are others like you – like us."

"There are?" I tried my damnedest not to sound skeptical, but it was still there.

"Yes."

"I've always wondered."

"That's partially my fault." His smug expression had vanished again, replaced by what I could only label as remorse. I couldn't tell for sure. I was still in a mental pause at the fact that there _were_ people like _me_.

"Why? What do you mean?" I asked. I had never seen Crowley before, or even heard of him, how was this his fault?

"I knew your mother." My face dropped. I felt as if I had taken that last step off of the skyscraper I was standing on, and now I was plummeting towards concrete, and I didn't even have a parachute…

** X**

•Crowley•

** X**

Her dark green eyes widened and her light seemed to fade out momentarily at the word mother. This was not a great idea. Yet what was I supposed to do? Let him violate her? I'm a demon – the king of hell – as a matter of fact. Yet a deal, is a deal, regardless of who it was made with and when.

"M – my mother?"

"Yes," I answered, inspecting the end of my cigar in my hand. "Would you like to know about her?" Her reply was immediate: no.

"Is that why you're _really here_ then?" She sounded angry, or just on the verge of becoming so. "To spy on me for her? She didn't care enough about me to raise me, but she cares enough to _spy_ on me."

"I'm not _spying_ on you," I insisted. "I've merely been watching out for you, since always… whenever I have the free time." I had to add that in. I did nothing for her if it wasn't convenient for me. That was my nature. Still some demon that can't be erased in situations.

"Oh?" she added, sarcastically. "Hiding a corner pretty much qualifies as spying in my book."

"I already told you I wasn't in the corner," I lied, pointing behind me.

"Can it. I felt your aura immediately, it wasn't gradual as you walked in. I wasn't born yesterday. And I've felt that aura more than once." I didn't want to look confused, but I knew I did. I never knew she could feel me like humans.

"You can – " I rolled my finger, feeling uncomfortable about saying the rest of my question. Her eyes bored through me and she nodded. Rubbing my neck, I turned around, attempting to regroup. Shit. A heavy sigh pushed its way out of my mouth.

"All out of lies are we?" her voice chirped. Not quite out of lies, no.

"Now look…" I turned my body back to face her. "We only watch you in public. And we're respectable lads, alright? It's just me – and my brother."

"Your brother?" She wasn't buying it.

"Yes, would you like to meet him?"

"If you would be so kind." She smiled slightly and folded her arms over her chest.

"Give me a moment, yeah?" I popped to Eli and grabbed his shoulder, popping him right back to Addison with me.

"Damn Crowley, don't you fuckin' knock?" Eli cursed. Poor boy sold me his soul a year ago, all for a glorious college life and 5 years after to play bachelor. He couldn't bear the thought of a wife and kids. He wanted to forever be 27. Didn't matter that much to me, I've seen my fair share of deals made. He got what he wanted and so did I. I had thrown a supermodel into the deal at the expense that he pretended to be my brother. I gave him a small bit of information about her and told him about why he was so important. He was reluctant at first until I started to make cuts to his deal… I snorted at Eli's comment.

"Eli, this is _Addison_." Eli scowled at me, still holding the shot in his hand that he was seconds away from taking downstairs.

"Addison?" he asked, stupidly, scrunching up his face. I opened my eyes wider and nodded to her. Eli followed my eyes and let out a long drawn out _oh_. Without rolling my eyes, I pulled him to his feet. I could have picked someone a lot brighter to help me out with this role, but he was there and he never asked too many questions… it was convenient. And I am all about convenience.

"This is your brother?" Addison questioned. By her expression, I knew she was reading him.

"_Half_-brother," Eli assured her.

"Right." She stared at him closely for another moment, then nodded. "So _my mom_ sent you out, huh? Why?"

"Your mom's just worried about you," Eli told her, trying to be nonchalant about it.

"I don't understand why she would be."

"People are after you, Addison," I interjected, placing a hand on Eli's shoulder to teleport him back to his room to leave Addison and I alone. Her eyes widened.

"What people?"

"All kinds."

"That's a little vague."

"It's meant to be," I mumbled, smirking. "There's a lot of people that want and need you for various things."

"So, I'm a freak, kind of like an X-Man?"

"A what?"

"An X-Man, you know, the comic book? I'm like a mutant and they want me gone?"

"Sure," I answered, confusedly. She nodded, a smile forming on her lips.

"Is everyone being chased? Like all the mutants?"

"No, just you."

"Why me?" I really wanted a tall glass of scotch and a bed full of whores – I had done my deed, kept my word, here she was, safe and this questioning was too damn much. She was asking too many questions.

"You're special." I tried to be curt about it, I tried to give her the hint that I was finished talking.

"Like Neo from The Matrix? The One?" A star gazing look burned in her eyes.

"Love, I'm sorry, but no more pop-culture references, alright?" This time, I rubbed my temples. She bit her lip and blushed, staring down at the carpet. "I'm rather old and I do tend to forget things." She opened her mouth and I already anticipated another question. My hand raised. "I'm _really_ old, before you ask." Her lips curled into a slow, sly smile.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. This is new to the both of us. It's going to take some time."

"So what do we do now? Do I go with you or –" I held my hand up again.

"We wait," I told her calmly. "We just _wait_."


	2. Chapter 2: Tyrael

**AN: Read through this once! So happy you guys are interested/like it so far! - Dee**

Angels were not always sterile. Once, close to about twenty-five thousand years ago, God had created five angels that he had given the ability to reproduce. He made each one unique, by personality and appearance. Every child born to one of these angels would be a nephilim, a powerful breed of half human, half angel. His ideas for them ran wild – He wanted them to walk on Earth like humans in their own vessels, He wanted them to be able to think own their own, without orders or commands. Nephilim were going to be His superior rulers in heaven, they were going to stop the corruption in the garrisons, and teach free will to angels. Their duties on Earth were to protect and heal, no heavenly attachments required. Never did He think that angels would purposefully set out to end his new creations. Many were outraged by the idea of a half breed looking over them. Being half angel didn't matter to them – it was an insult.

Nephilim were going to be God's best, His supreme beings. They were programmed to be virtually indestructible, fast, and intelligent. Complete garrisons would have to join together to kill one after it was born. It would never fall ill, need food, or need to breathe if necessary. It would never become pregnant, unless it made the choice to. Nothing would be able to stop them… nothing.

The five angels were created, trained outside of garrisons and placed in each corner of the world. The sisters set out, focused on the daunting task of finding a man to mate with. It only occurred once every 500 years, meaning that each angel needed to find the best of the best. The possibilities around for conception were endless – some waited a few hours after their placement on Earth, while others waited thousands of years. Two of the angels were killed in a year's time. They were both pregnant within two months of their time on Earth. The angels in heaven were scared – there was no knowledge on how to kill a nephilim. Their simplest idea: kill it before it was even born by killing the mother.

After news of the murders reached the three remaining sisters, they all went deep into hiding. No longer using their grace, or power, they slowly became human, riding through centuries as loners. Slowly over the time of about seven hundred years, two more killed off, until there was only one…

**XXXXX**

**LATE SUMMER, A FEW MILES OFF EAST CASTLE ROCK, WYOMING : 22 YEARS AGO**

Teodora sat calmly in her white rocking chair, shushing her one year old, Calypso, to sleep. Rumors had been circulating in the supernatural world that the garrisons were hunting for her. Calypso was the only nephilim to have been born and Teodora believed it was God's will – that her Father wanted this, He had kept them safe for that reason only. She had been out of sight for almost a thousand years, anxiously waiting for the moment they would come for them both. Her sisters had all perished and she had lived alone on a small piece of land with barely any contact with the outside world.

Calypso was Teodora's only child. Her baby. And she knew the apocalypse was near. It was still at least close to 20 years away, but the thought still ate itself through her mind. She knew what would be expected of Calypso if she lived long enough. She knew Calypso would have to fight. She would be the only sure victor against Lucifer. Just knowing her child was destined for a battle with Lucifer made her grieve.

The father that had helped in the making of Teodora's nephilim was no more than a weary eyed, scruffy stranger passing through a town nearby one night. She had spent three hours evaluating his aura and presence, trailing through his mind like an auditor. He never told her his full name, to her he was Jim, even though she knew much more about him than that. And ten months after that night, Calypso found herself alive and safe, completely free from angel detection thanks to Enochian etched into her bones and the blessings of a voodoo healer. Teodora had found the woman nearby on vacation with her family and she couldn't have been any more grateful for the miracle.

Calypso wriggled in her mother's hold, restless. "I have you, my child," she shushed, kissing her forehead. The infant squirmed even more, muttering a quiet "mama". A fluttering of wings from behind Teodora froze her in her place. She turned her head ever so slightly to acknowledge the angel, Tyrael. He was in a vessel of a burly mechanic, greasy coveralls, hands covered in the same grease, his sword in his right hand. She smirked at the gleaming silver.

"How did you find me?" she asked in Enochian.

"I have my ways," Tyrael responded as he walked to her side. He sounded bored, empty. As if killing the last of one of God's creations was below him. He stopped a few feet away from her and stared at her with the vessel's caramel colored eyes.

"Why are you here, brother? I have no qualm with you or your garrison."

"Do not call me _brother_, traitor," he warned. She caught the urge to sigh in her throat.

"Why are you here, _Tyrael_?"

"You know why. Your nephilim." The word was spoken in disgust.

"My _child _has done nothing to you. She is a gift from God. If she was not meant to be – why would He give her life?" Tyrael scoffed.

"The nephilim are regarded above angels by God. Why your child may be an angel, she is still a human. _Humans over angels_. Do you _not _see the problem?"

"Not in the slightest. The corruption in heaven – a place of peace and happiness – being turned into a battleground for angels is the actual problem."

"You _foolish _whore!" Tyrael hissed. "That thing in your hands is human. Do you forget the days when they were below us? When we slaughtered them like animals?"

"No, I do not. But I do recall taking an oath to bow before them. Your disrespect to our Father sickens me. Think of who you sound like," she clipped, comparing him to Lucifer. "Perhaps you all _could_ use a nephilim, seeing as your morals are in the wrong mind. You've slaughtered innocent humans and angels all for what? _Your pride_?"

"You dare compare me to Lucifer?" Tyrael's wings opened up, no longer cloaked.

"And _you dare_ enter _my _house and threaten the life of me and _my child_?" She rose slowly from the rocking chair, her black wings fanning out defensively behind her. Her hands gripped Calypso tighter. "I will not give in so easily, to harm her, you will kill me first." Tyrael's eyes twinkled as a smirk formed on his lips. He lunged at her and she teleported to Calypso's nursery. Her hands worked quickly, balancing the baby as she sliced into her hand with the angel blade she kept strapped to her side. Tyrael entered the room and quickly vanished after she placed her bloodied palm into the center of a ward. She had worked months on it. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she stood and held her head back, ready to scream. Her wings were still tense and arched, prepared to fly them anywhere at any second. "Crowley!" she screamed. "Please come! Quickly!" Teodora grabbed a diaper bag from Calypso's dresser to pack things inside of it, placing diapers, toys, bottles, clothes, and blankets into it. She turned to reach for a teddy bear and nearly collided with the demon she had called for. Crowley stood with his usual smug expression, his black suit and dress shirt both neatly pressed. It was hard to tell he'd just been out wrestling hellhounds for half an hour.

"You rang?" he asked, cheekily, not even phased by her frantic expression. Teodora had been on Earth away from angels for so long that she had almost practically became human. She was still an angel, but unusual compared to the rest.

"Tyrael," she breathed. "He's here." Crowley's eyes perked up. His mind was tripping over itself with worry, but his exterior didn't falter. He turned to scan the room even though he knew it was empty. "Do you remember our agreement centuries ago?" The demon refaced her, his expression serious.

"Our debt?" His eyebrow raised.

"Yes."

"What of it?" His eyes squinted, he already knew he wasn't going to like whatever she was about to ask.

"Crowley, will you repay your debt to me by watching over Calypso?" she pleaded. He winced. Her green eyes grew wide with a mixture of fear and anxiety. "Please, Crowley, we don't have much time. Tyrael will kill her and I both." He waited a beat, measuring each outcome, basing it around how it would directly affect him.

"You cannot ask this of me," Crowley told her, his eyes squeezed shut. Teodora chewed on her lip, staring helplessly at her baby. "Do you know what would happen to me if _anyone_ found out about _this_? About _her_?"

"If it wasn't for me the three times you were almost killed, your vessel would be a pile of ash right now with you in purgatory," she reminded him harshly. He silently recalled the night in Amsterdam when a coven of witches had tried to imprison him, his constant struggle with angels during his life, and the crossroads demon issue the night he was taken to hell. Crowley sighed, releasing the knot in his brow.

"I _cannot_ believe I am about to agree to this," he muttered. "Any _other _requests? A million dollars? Champagne for _your last hoo-rah_? _An urn_ for _my_ ashes?" he hissed, exercising his shoulders before looking at her again. She let herself smile at the demon, then at Calypso.

"Just make sure she lives a long, happy, _human_ life for _me_, alright?" He swallowed hard, slowly realizing that he was losing one of his dear friends. The only person – angel, rather – that had helped him despite what he was – or became. But, he wasn't just losing Teodora, he was also putting his ass on the line with Lucifer. If Lucifer ever found out he was protecting the nephilim, he would have Crowley's head on a stick. The things that the nephilim was rumored to be able to do – the possibilities were endless. She was the _only one_, the possible future slayer of Lucifer. The two brothers would start the apocalypse and Michael would fall during battle and Calypso would slay Lucifer. Of course, that was the idea before all of the nephilim were considered to be dead. No one believed nephilim existed. Crowley's devious side lit up. If he kept her alive and watched over her, he might have more control over his "boss". Maybe even enough to overthrow him.

"Seems easy enough," he grumbled. She dropped the diaper bag onto his shoulder. His eyes bulged at the bright pink bag.

"Relax. It's only until you find a home to drop her off at."

"Any requests on that?"

"Use your best judgments. She's been protected with an Enochian ward so she will be very hard to find, maybe even impossible. Remember what she is, environment could trigger her and she will eventually get to a point where she will no longer be able to hide her gifts."

"It's really not a great idea to tell _a demon_ to use his _best _judgments, you know," he argued, always feeling the need to be argumentative, especially in another's time of need. There was a crashing sound of glass in the living room, wide eyed Teodora stuffed Calypso into his open arms. "You have my word, in honor of our debt," he rambled quickly.

"Get out of here! _Now_!" she screamed as Tyrael and three other angels ripped through the doorway. Crowley snapped and within seconds the both of them were standing in a quiet street just in front of a gated upscale neighborhood near Boston.

"How do you fancy this, little one?" he asked the sleeping baby in his arms. "I know it's rather dark, but we can't risk being seen." He walked up the gate, scanning for any potential threats. "It's fancy… new English… you're close to the ocean… you can't really ask for more…" He smirked when she merely snuggled against him closer, still asleep. Crowley cloaked the both of them before popping them across the gate. He took his time peering in at the habitants of each home. To him, each family seemed as worst as the last. His hope faded at the fifth house, silently watching a young boy's alcoholic father beat him until he was swollen. Sighing, they appeared at the doorstep of house number six. He wasn't expecting anything better than what he had seen. Humans were disgusting to him and spying on the families were enhancing his feelings.

"Sixth times the charm, 'ey love?" he asked, placing them inside. The decorations of the house were immaculate, everything seemed orderly, clean, and quiet. He looked over a few opened letters on the table of an office – all adoption papers each one denied. The family had tried four times in the last five years to no avail. He strolled through the house, walking to where he thought he heard a television. He glanced at a picture on the wall of two men holding hands, hanging just next to the television. Before him sat two men, midtwenties to early thirties, cuddled up on the couch, their two dogs at their feet. They were watching a rerun of an old sitcom, chuckling quietly. Crowley continued to search the house. In a room down the hall he found a nursery equipped with a crib and all of the extras to go with it. He did one more quick scan of the house, placed hex bags in a few inaccessible areas and decided it was time. Calypso and Crowley reappeared on the doorstep, still cloaked. Carefully, he placed her on the doormat, still swaddled. With two short waves of his hand he procured a short hand written letter and a brick of money. He tucked both items into the front of the diaper bag, placing it beside her.

"Good luck, darling," he whispered. "I'll be watching you." He waved a hand over her to make her visible again before pressing the doorbell. He stepped away quickly.

"Be right there," a voice called out over the sounds of barking dogs and locks unlatching. The shorter, younger blonde man answered the door first, he looked down at Calypso and gasped. "Mike!" he yelled, turning to face his partner. "Come quick!" Mike came running down the hallway, senses alert, scared someone was at the door to hurt them.

"Did you see who left her?" Mike asked, bending down to assess the baby.

"No."

"What does the letter say, Jack?" He gestured for him to read it as he picked up Calypso in his arms. The barking had stirred her from her sleep. She yawned and both of them let out a noise of their own to admire her sweetness. Jack read the note quickly and handed it over to Mike who was still scanning the streets for any sign of movement. Mike read the note shortly after and wrapped himself around Calypso even tighter as he finished it.

"Do you think _He_ heard us, honey?" Jack asked, looking towards the sky. Mike smiled and freed an arm to wrap around him.

"I'd say so," he whispered. Crowley rolled his eyes and reared every smart ass comment he wanted to say outloud. The men smiled lovingly at each other. Jack tiptoed up to Mike's mouth and kissed him softly.

"You know we're naming her Jackie, right?" Jack teased, turning to head inside.

"Guess again," he joked back, chasing him into the house.


	3. Chapter 3: Holiday

**AN: Another chapter, hoping to post chapter four tonight. Did a really crappy skim of this before I posted it. I apologize for any errors! Thank you! :) - Dee**

**XXXXX**

**NOVEMBER, COAST OF RHODE ISLAND : 2 YEARS AGO**

Thanksgiving break was the best time of the year for me - holiday revolving around eating great food with family. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and everyone else stuffed into my grandparent's lake house for five days. One day for eating, the second day dedicated to Black Friday, and the rest for relaxing and sleeping.

I pulled one of my pop's old, worn track hoodies from high school on and headed out to the dock where my parents were out fishing. It was their last chance before December and it was "too cold" for any outdoor activity. I stood at the edge, watching them both. My pop's bald head covered in a knit cap I had attempted to make for him years ago and my dad toughing out the chill like usual in a jean jacket with the sleeves rolled up. My pop was always a firm believer that you never caught a cold if you were bundled up. "Well look at you!" Pop teased, as he turned to face me. "You just gonna stand down there and stare at us all day!" he shouted, setting his pole down. I smiled and shook my head. "Already stealing my clothes too, huh?" He rose up from his lawn chair and stalked towards me, yanking me in for a long hug. "When you'd get here?"

"About five minutes ago," I answered, wrapping him up in an equally strong hug.

"Five minutes in and you're _already ganking_ _my_ clothes." I always took his clothes, they were comfortable and stretchy. He was all about comfort over style.

"Don't worry, baby, Pop is just mad he can't fit into that old thing anymore," my dad teased. He enveloped himself around me, shoving Pop away. He attempted to pull me down, tucking me under his armpit.

"Jack, _dear_, would you mind a swim?" Pop teased back, creating a group hug of the three of us.

"I've missed you both," I mumbled, breathing in their combination of colognes.

"We've missed you too," Dad sighed, kissing my cheek. Their auras were so calming and smooth. I loved being around them – I always felt at home. Pop's aura was a sea green color, slow and steady completely throughout. Dad's aura was baby blue, hints of yellow swirls that almost looked like suns. His aura was steady, but near his core it buzzed with energy.

"So, tell us all about _college life_."

"Same old," I answered, shrugging, taking my place on the wooden dock in between both of their lawn chairs.

"_No boys?_" Dad asked, curiously.

"Or _girls?_" Pop added, giving Dad a pointed look before casting his line out into the sea.

"Double no," I replied, laughing. I remembered Crowley for a brief moment. I didn't want to bring him up via telephone due to their protective nature. They were both very protective of my gifts and abilities. This was the main reason why I wasn't allowed to venture out of state for college, had to call almost every day, so forth and so on. "Do either of you recall a man named Crowley from any point in my life?" I asked. I could sense them both perk up and I knew I had done it.

"Why?" questioned Pop. I shrugged again, playing with a lace on my shoe. They increased the resolution on their microscopes and honed in. "_Why?_" he repeated, slower.

"Some guy – well, this guy," I corrected myself. "_Crowley_. He told me he had been sent by my mother to keep an eye out on me."

"What?" Dad chirped, dropping his pole back onto the dock. I couldn't read thoughts, but he was the worrier and I could guess exactly everything running through his mind.

"_Relax!_ I didn't believe him." I had felt his aura a few times since the_ incident_, and even caught a glimpse of him, but it wasn't alarming. He never invaded my privacy, as he had promised, and it was only about once every couple of weeks. And in that same moment, I felt him, but just as soon as I felt him, he was gone. I really wanted to yell for him, to make him show himself, but I knew my parents would freak out. Sometimes I felt incredibly guilty about the life I put the both of them through. They had an extremely rough time with me during my childhood. All they had asked for was a child and _boy_, did they get one. I was never sick, had straight A's, played sports, and had my first psychiatric evaluation at age six, which is obviously _not so normal_. I was evaluated all because I had asked my teacher why the colors around her body were so nasty. They were just dark and swirly – empty. And as you can imagine she had me escorted out and had me evaluated promptly – and that was only one of many, many, many problems. But, even through all of that, _they both still loved me._

"What did he say to you, Addison?" Pop asked, not really even asking, but demanding. Pop was an old military man. He had only used the military to jumpstart his career in medicine, but some of that stayed with him.

"That was it, aside from knowing about my gift." Pop cursed and tossed his pole into the water.

"What?" Dad asked.

"We _can't_ ignore this anymore, Jack." He rose up from his lawn chair and started to pace. "We _need_ to figure out _what _she is!"

"She's _our daughter_, _Michael_," he protested, standing up as well.

"Jack, _I know_ she's our daughter, but we both know she can't live like this anymore. She's nineteen years old, in college! She isn't six anymore! We can't just sweep this under the rug and keep running, constantly afraid of what we might find if we look at this for what it is!"

"_We've had her evaluated!_ Brain scans, blood tests, therapists, psychiatrists, what _more_ do you _want!_ I mean – I just don't understand what you want! This is our first incidence! No one else has ever stepped forward and said they know about her! You're overreacting!"

"Am I?"

"YES!"

"Pop…" I started slowly. The tension between them continued to build. They ignored me and continued, walking farther down the dock.

"And how do you plan on getting these questions answered, Mr. Doctor?" Dad prodded. Pop breathed in steadily and turned away briefly, calming himself as the rest of our family arrived, their cars pulling into the driveway up by the house.

"Remember that expert in South Dakota? Robert? Rupert? Or something like that?" Pop asked, turning back around to face him.

"That quack someone told us about years ago?"

"I say we head on out and get the facts and answers. No more of this 'she's just a little odd, like most children' talk. I want actual answers." Dad sighed, he looked down at me and looked back at Pop.

"Are you sure about this, Mike? I mean really sure? We don't even know this guy."

"What do we honestly have to lose at this point?" Dad turned to look at me again, his eyes scanning me over and over.

"Addy…" he said my name slowly, sinking down to sit on the dock with me. "Honey, would you like to go and listen to what this man may have to say? Get some explanations?" He put his hands into mine and squeezed.

"We just want to be able to protect you. See if anything like this has happened before," Pop added, sitting down, too. I didn't dare mention what Crowley said this time.

"Yes, I want to go," I replied, definitely sure of my decision. It's not like I could count on Crowley to give me any actual answers.

**XXXXX**

At dinner, meeting Bobby Singer was the only thing on my mind. My parents had called him right after our family discussion. He agreed to meet us on Saturday or Sunday, whichever day we arrived in Sioux Falls. I was anxious. Ready. I just wanted to know. Immediately after dinner the three of us loaded up on my dad's Scion and we drove off to South Dakota, there was no Black Friday for us that year.

"We should have stayed the night," Dad yawned, snuggling up under a blanket in the back seat. He wasn't entirely happy about missing Black Friday. He loved the crowds and all of the shopping. It always got him in the mood for Christmas.

"We'll be fine. We can all take turns," Pop insisted, settling in the driver's seat. "We'll rotate in four hour intervals. You feel up to taking the next shift, babe?" He asked, turning to look at me.

"Sure," I yawned, leaning back against the seat.

"Great!" he chirped, clapping. He was the night owl out of the three of us.

"I seriously think Bobby should look at your Pop, too," Dad joked. Pop jokingly held a middle finger up and pulled out onto the road…

_I saw the twist of pain across a man's face. He screamed out, tears running down his face as a knife was slicing into his side. An ominous voice shushed him, laughing. "Just say yes…" His voice taunted, lowly. The room they were in was dark, everywhere you looked there was darkness. It seemed to stretch for miles. I could taste smoke in my mouth, the air was thick and humid. The aura of the man cutting into the one screaming was just a pit. "All you have to do is say yes. It's one little word, Winchester…" the man taunted again. He licked the man's blood from the knife, smiling. The man cried out as the knife entered his abdomen…_

"NO!" I screamed, bolting up from the seat. Pop swerved the car and cried out.

"_Fuck!_ Addy! Are you alright?" Pop asked, pulling the car over. My dad sat up a few moments later, waking as the rumble strips shook the car.

"No!" I screamed again, ripping the same track hoodie I had on earlier at the lake house. I was drenched in my own sweat. The minute the car was stopped, I busted out of it and fell into the cool wet grass of East Hartford, Connecticut. I grabbed the big sign welcoming us to the city and dry heaved.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Dad asked, holding up a bottled water as he approached.

"I just had a bad dream," I mumbled. "Thank you." I took the water from him and sloshed it around in my mouth a few times.

"You want to talk about it?"

"I would if I could explain what I saw." He frowned and helped me stand.

"We'll figure all of this out soon enough."


	4. Chapter 4: Sillestra

**AN: Hey guys! Thank you so much for all of your encouragement and for following! I wish I could type up the next chapter tonight, but I am POOPED. Hopefully tomorrow night or Friday night I will find the will power to update. Only two days into fall semester and I already have my first exam Monday – but that's nursing school. UGH. Thank you again! Enjoy! - Dee**

**NOVEMBER, SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA : 2 YEARS AGO**

Bobby Singer was inside on his couch when he saw the car arrive. He had been expecting the Mielkes for a couple of days. His desk was stacked high with books of possible explanations. He had no real answer and it bothered him. He was fearful Addison was another victim of Azazel's, another 'special child' of his that he had created to help in the coming apocalypse. He didn't know what the 'children' were going to be used for at the time. No one even knew the apocalypse was only a short time away. Bobby pulled on a baseball cap next to his lamp and headed outside to meet his guests.

"You all the Mielkes?" he asked, tucking his hands into the pockets on his jeans. He watched as a man climbed out of the car that was sitting in the driver's seat. The bald man nodded and extended a hand to Bobby.

"Mike Mielke," he introduced himself, smiling slightly.

"Bobby Singer," he replied, plainly, watching Addison exit from the backseat slowly. In his eyes the girl was no older than twenty, but looked as though she had seen a war. There was no other way to describe her manner. Her eyes were bloodshot, wide, as if in shock.

"Addison, this is Mr. Singer," Mike told her, helping her walk to Bobby on the gravel drive. Mike frowned and turned to Bobby when she didn't respond. "She hasn't had much sleep. She's been having terrible nightmares since our drive here."

"Did they just start? Or are these a regular thing?"

"They just started," Addison answered in a monotone voice, still staring into the void. Another man climbed out of the car, almost as disheveled as Addison. His blonde hair, usually styled, was loose and floppy.

"Hi Mr. Singer, I'm Jack," he told Bobby, giving him the best smile he could muster.

"Call me Bobby. Mr. Singer makes me sound and feel old. Let me keep some youth in my age." Mike and Jack exchanged a glance as they caught up the rest of Bobby's appearance, wrinkled plaid over shirt, with a holy, stained up white t-shirt under it. "You wanna head inside? We can talk more in private."

"Definitely," Mike answered, wrapping an arm around Addison. Regardless of the way Bobby looked, he was ready to give him a shot.

Bobby had prepared plenty of traps to catch her in case she was actually just possessed. He was hoping that all three of them were normal, he wasn't in the mood for a battle of wits against one demon, let alone three, now that the Winchester boys were running through his house on a regular basis. He walked ahead of them and opened the door, staying outside to watch them pass over the rug with a trap hidden beneath it. He casually looked off, not trying to expose himself. All three walked over it with ease, no hesitance noted.

"Head on into the living room. Any of you thirsty? I have iced tea or water." Each had been mixed with holy water in advance.

"Water, please," Jack replied.

"I think Addison and I will take some iced tea, please, Bobby," Mike added. Bobby nodded to himself and poured out the glasses as requested.

"Go ahead and take a seat anywhere you want." Mike and Jack looked around the clutter of the living room before deciding on the couch against the wall, facing Bobby's desk. He placed the glasses on the side tables before sitting in his seat in front of his desk. "Well," he spoke, adjusting the bill of his hat. "Let's start from day one."

"Day one?" Mike asked.

"The day you first started caring for Addison." Each of them took a drink from their glasses and he was pleasantly surprised to find that none of them started screaming and smoking.

"_Well_ – she was around a year old. Her mother left a note with Addison on our doorstep explaining that she couldn't take care of her anymore," Jack started, wrapping her up under his arm as she started to fall asleep again.

"And there was no other information left on her?"

"No."

"I'm gonna ask you two a question and I need the _real, straight answer_ from the _both_ of ya. If you want any help from me, we're gonna be one hundred percent honest with each other and you're just gonna have to believe me, no matter what I say. _You understand me?_" Both of the men nodded. "Has she ever been _possessed _before?"

"No," Mike scoffed, pushing the idea away. "Are you serious?" Jack stared at Bobby anxiously.

"I'm dead serious. Now, I know you all would like to think that nothing supernatural is out there, but there is. And if you want my help, I suggest you take anything I say _seriously_. I don't say anything I don't mean."

"I didn't mean disrespect," Mike explained. "I just want to help my daughter."

"She have any incidents growing up? Fights? Any friends? Maybe odd habits?"

"She can move things without touching them and read people – like read their auras, and she was a bit of a loner as a child, but she grew out of that in college. I mean, there were incidents, but we handled them," Jack told Bobby.

"You ever had to take her to the doctor for being sick?"

"No," Jack answered. "She was perfectly healthy. I mean she only went to the doctor for check-ups and physicals or shots and the same thing with the dentist…"

"Well, the way I see it is that your daughter was the victim of a demon named Azazel," Bobby stated, wishing he had a beer. He adjusted his hat again and flipped a few pages over on his desk at list of possibilities he had created.

"Excuse me?" Mike asked. Bobby sighed. He wished he had someone else to help explain it, another victim – Sam, because he at least had compassion and knowledge on the subject.

"Alright. Listen to me and_ listen _damn good and _well_. Demons are out there among us. I think Addison is a victim of a powerful one, he's going around doing this type of thing all across America, kids all about her age have these _things_ they can do – see dreams, move things, super strength, all of that…"

"What? Why? What does he want her for?" Mike interjected, leaning forward.

"_What the hell do you think a demon wants?_ It's hard telling. It's a _damn demon_," he explained, throwing his hands up. "The minute you ever figure out what those devious sons of bitches want, it's already almost too late!"

"_That's enlightening_," Jack mumbled, shifting slightly.

"What can we do?" Mike asked, giving a glare to Jack.

"Protect her," Bobby answered simply. "Protect yourselves too. I can teach you some wards and traps, but there's really not much else you can do. Salt your windows and doors, keep holy water in gallons stored around your house." Jack became wide-eyed.

"Are you – just tell us – are you _absolutely positive_ that this is what we are dealing with?"

"Anything's possible in this world. Hell, I've almost seen it all, but dealing with this kind of stuff is like being handed a medical degree without going to school and being tossed into an operating room. There's no way to tell for sure until you meet the damn thing – _or things_." Jack exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair, Bobby could tell he was becoming upset. "_Now look_. I've been doing this a long time, you won't find anybody else alive that could tell you more. But if you aren't satisfied, I do have psychics and mediums that can help. She can read people's pasts and – you know what, let me just go ahead and call her for you," he explained, grabbing the wireless phone from his desk. "She might be able to help Addison today."

"_A psychic?_" Jack questioned, raising his eyebrows to Mike.

"It's worth a shot," Mike told the both of them, glancing at Addison as she jerked again in her sleep.

After ten minutes of round about phone tag he had guaranteed a meeting with Sillestra, the mother of the psychic he had originally contacted. She was an old time witch doctor from the Western part of New Orleans and had apparently taught everything she knew to her daughter, his usual. He was reluctant, but if it had not possibly involved Azazel, he could have waited for her, but he didn't have the time.

"Alright, I have a lady lined up," he explained, hanging up the phone. "She's not my usual, but she's pretty damn good from what I hear. She can look back to Addison's past, all the back to conception and see everything." The men stared at Bobby, awestruck. "Bit of a hard day, _huh?_"

"Can we just get some time alone?" Mike asked, looking over at Jack, who was still sitting there trying to wrap his mind around everything.

"Sure, she should be here within the next hour or two, she lives in the sticks on the opposite side of town so I'll just leave you two to it and get some materials ready to show you how to protect yourselves…"

**XXXXX**

Sillestra arrived two hours later with her translator slash caregiver in tow. Sillestra was almost eighty-four years old, a very well trained and experienced witch doctor that had moved to South Dakota from New Orleans to be closer to her daughter and grandsons. She only spoke Fulani and French and even then – her usual translator still had issues with her due to her age. Her wardrobe was very plain, nothing more than a long broomstick skirt tie-dyed in dark colors, a black long sleeved tunic and numerous beaded necklaces. The translator, Marco, sat her up in the recliner in Bobby's living room after a quick introduction to everyone and reminding them all that she was blind. The four men pulled Bobby's dining room from the kitchen out and placed chairs around it.

"She wants Addison on her right," Marco told them as Sillestra began rambling instructions to him in Fulani. "She needs three candles in a triangle on the table with half a glass of water in the center." Bobby cocked an eyebrow up at him and did as he was told.

"Any sized candle?" Bobby asked, holding three large, white pillar candles from a shelf in the hallway.

"Those will be fine." Addison sat down beside Sillestra and regardless of her eyesight, she still looked in Addison's direction. The both of them stared at each other, their minds tickled at the feelings they were having.

"I'll light them," Marco insisted, pushing Bobby's hand away. "You three should sit." Bobby wasn't quite sure he felt okay to give up the reins to someone he wasn't familiar with, but he did, sitting a seat over from Sillestra. Addison couldn't get a handle on the witch doctor's aura, it was constantly changing, never the same thing for longer than five seconds. Marco sat on Sillestra's left and instructed everyone to take hands. When Sillestra and Addison's touched, Sillestra made a yipping sound and pulled back for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked, peering over between the two of them, worry setting in. Marco asked Jack's question for him and she mumbled out an answer, smiling at her.

"She has an _extraordinary_ amount of energy," Marco explained. "But it's a good energy." She mumbled another string of words and bowed her head. "She is ready to begin. Now, I cannot translate every word she says, there are really no requirements for you, your energies help her see the past. With that said, you will not need to say anything or think particular thoughts. The room may feel colder, you may hallucinate whatever she sees, but that is normal. When she begins to tell me what she sees, I will translate. And before I forget – please do not ask any questions or talk until afterwards. The whole process will take around fifteen to twenty minutes and talking will disrupt her energy and concentration. My voice does not have an effect on her, she is attuned to me, and my translating will _not_ interfere." Each person at the table stared readily at each other. "Any questions?" There was a unison no. "Interlock hands, please." Everyone did as they were asked. He mumbled to Sillestra in French this time and she bowed her head. He followed her lead and the rest did as well, not really sure where to look.

Sillestra let out a long hiss, her back twisted in the fluffy chair. She began to mumble immediately, her eyes squeezed shut. It started out as a whisper that increased into a shout. "She is starting her incantation. This may take a minute or two," Marco instructed. The rambling stopped abruptly and she bucked in the chair, her head shaking from side to side. She inhaled sharply and stopped shaking, her eyes opened, revealing her cataracts. Her head snapped upwards, her face pointing at the ceiling.

"There's a demon, she sees a demon," Marco spoke slowly, watching Sillestra. "Your daughter has a beautiful soul, it's _heavenly_. It's _very_ pure. It makes her special..." He paused, waiting for her to continue. "Demons want her. They want her power. One demon in particular was there in the beginning. He wants her for her power and what she has to offer." Jack wriggled uncomfortably in his seat, biting his tongue to refrain from asking anything. Sillestra's head shook again, wildly. "The demon's face and name are erased. He's very powerful to have been able to erase himself from her timeline. He's trying to hide." Sillestra's entire body began to shake and she cried out, almost as if in pain. "There's another being near the beginning of Addison's timeline. _Another being is in her timeline_," he repeated, his voice cracking. He swallowed, trying his best not to seem worried as Sillestra cried out louder. "This being is a woman and she too is powerful, much more powerful than the demon." Addison's hands began to burn in Sillestra's and Mike's.

Sillestra screamed and arched her back, the snap from the bend causing each person except for Addison to look up. "The woman is scared, she won't let Sillestra in. She says it's not safe. She won't let Sillestra go any farther." The witch doctor rambled without stopping, repeating the same incantation over and over, trying to force the being to step aside. Addison's entire body burned with heat, she was afraid she would combust. Sweat was pouring out of her. Deep knots formed in her upper back. Sillestra shouted forcefully and stood, still holding hands with Marco and Addison. Addison's back twitched and flexed. "She's letting Sillestra in," Marco shouted, rising with Sillestra. The woman screamed out as she felt the being's power wash over her, releasing hands to cover her head with her hands. She fell to the ground and cried out.

"Sillestra!" Marco yelled, collapsing to her side, the other three men rose up to help. "She's repeating something, but I can't make it out!" Marco turned to look at Addison and his eyes became wide with fear. "Everyone! _Cover your eyes!_"

"Well, I'm gonna assume _this_ _ain't good_," Bobby muttered, turning to look at Addison too, eyeballing the gun on his desk.

"Sillestra is screaming for you to cover your eyes!" Marco shouted as Addison flailed and arched in the chair. She began to cry out as well. "Do it! _NOW!_" He yelled. Addison fell back against the wooden chair, her shoulders hanging over the back of the chair so her chest was facing the ceiling, pointing directly up. A blinding white light broke from her chest, shooting through the house and into the sky. She collapsed afterwards, her entire body flaccid as she hit the floor.

"Addison!" Mike and Jack cried out in unison, scrambling to her side. Bobby walked over and carefully inspected his ceiling, expecting a gaping hole. Thankfully, everything was still intact.

"Beer," Bobby stated, heading for his kitchen. Sillestra moaned shortly after Bobby had downed half of his bottle. She and Marco engaged in a quiet conversation, Marco more and more confused as she spoke.

"What's wrong with her?!" Jack yelled, cradling Addison in his lap. His cheeks were stained with tears, watching as Mike did a careful assessment on her.

"Your daughter is fine," Marco told him, helping Sillestra stand. "She had an expulsion of energy. Energy that was buried deep within her."

"What? Why?" Mike asked, standing.

"Sillestra is refusing to tell me why." He scratched his head and stared at the men.

"What?" asked Jack. "_Bobby invited her to tell us!_"

"I understand, but you must believe me, she _cannot_ say a word."

"And why the hell _not?_" Bobby asked, stepping back into the living room with a second beer. "Her daughter assured me that Sillestra could tell me about this girl's past."

"The being asked her not to." All of the men grumbled. "If she told us, we would all be in immediate danger."

"_From what?_" Bobby asked, irritated. He was offended that they were in his house, the supernatural Fort Knox, and a witch doctor couldn't tell him what it was because they were 'unsafe.'

"She cannot say," Marco repeated in a firmer tone. Marco assisted her to Addison's side, watching as she sat down and calmly stroked Addison's hair, humming a quiet tune. "She says that Addison is a gift from God, but she will say _no more_, only that we must protect her to protect ourselves. Addison's the key to _our future_."

"Any chance you might know what we're saving her from?"

"Everything."

"_Balls_," muttered Bobby, downing his beer.


	5. Chapter 5: Fergus McLeod

**AN: Hey guys! Labor Day weekend = no school = updates! Been typing this up. No edits made. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT! – Dee**

**XXXXX**

**[TIMELINE CONTINUED FROM LAST CHAPTER]**

Addison slept for almost two days straight, barely waking long enough to tend to mother nature or take a sip of water. Sillestra had told Mike and Jack that she would sleep for a while, but she was uncertain of the time. After the first day of waiting at Bobby's and learning every sigil and defense they possibly could, they headed back home. Mike and Jack felt as though they had a million questions more than before, their spirits broken. They stopped to sleep at a hotel just outside of Chicago, prepared to practice their new skills.

"Dad – is that – _salt?_" Addison asked carefully, sitting up in bed, blinking at the red LEDS on the table. Jack dropped the salt he was placing around the windowsills and ran over to her, enveloping her in a hug. Mike sat the paint brush he was using down carefully before joining them. "What is up with you two? You guys alright?" she questioned, eyeballing their arts and crafts. "Are we in South Dakota yet?" Jack looked at Mike alarmingly. He held his hands up to his partner and sat on the opposite side of their daughter.

"Honey, we've already been there. We're headed back home now. Don't you remember?" Mike asked, rubbing her back.

"No."

"Do you remember leaving the lake house?"

"Somewhat," she mumbled, combing a hand through her hair. "Can you just tell me what's wrong?" She looked between the both of them and their heads hung. "Did we find out anything?"

"Not really," Mike mumbled, resuming his duty of painting a devil's trap on the wooden floor of the hotel room.

"What in the _hell_ are you guys _doing?_" She rose from the bed slowly, staring wide eyed at the trap.

"Setting traps," Jack answered. He shook out more salt along the window and glanced outside anxiously.

"For?"

"Demons or whatever."

"_Right_," she added, sarcastically. "So I'm a demon – I'm guessing?"

"No, you're God's gift," Jack corrected her. Addison sat on the edge of the bed, throwing her hands up.

"Excuse me?"

"You may not believe us, but you need to trust us," Mike mumbled, popping his back as he stood from a hunched over position.

"So that's all I am? God's gift?"

"That's the only name Sillestra would give to us," Mike stated before dragging a large area rug back into position over the trap.

"Wow, Pop, that's _really specific_. You know I thought everything was _His_ gift, but – _wow_." She cursed quietly and held her head. Her body felt hot again. "I'm gonna go for a walk," she muttered, pulling at the collar of her shirt.

"_It isn't safe!_" Jack insisted. She pulled on her shoes, casting a glare in his direction.

"From what? _Demons? _Okay, dad. I don't know what crazy pills Bobby gave you two, but honestly, _you need to get a grip_." She ripped a lightweight jacket out of her duffel bag and yanked it on.

"Addy – " Mike started.

"Save it, pop. I'll be back later. I need to get some air and time alone to process - _this_," she clipped, gesturing to the salt, before exiting the hotel room. The bitter air of the changing season zipped by her as she shut the door. She glanced up at the black sky and orange, city light polluted clouds hanging low overhead. They were only a few miles out from the actual city of Chicago. The streets were empty for a little after one in the morning, especially for a city of its size. Heat swelled deep in her again as she walked a few blocks away. She knew it wasn't hot outside. Her common sense told her so. A deep, tingling, knotting feeling ripped across her back and she stopped walking. She was distracted with the sensation to the point that she didn't feel Crowley's aura or hear him arrive.

"Out of sorts today, are we, darling?" purred his voice from the shadows. Addison jumped and the sensation faded. He smiled broadly as she continued to walk.

"What do you want?" she grumbled over her shoulder, yanking the hood on her jacket over her head.

"I'm afraid I'm not here for chit chat." His smile quickly fell into a flat thin line. "You're in danger."

"Oh am I?" she asked, mockingly.

"Yes."

"What now? Demons – I suppose?" she was exasperated. Her deepest thoughts prayed it was all a dream, that she would wake up at home, just overstuffed with Thanksgiving dinner.

"No, not quite – wait – how do you know about demons?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around. She shrugged and he squinted, stepping closer to her. "I'm not playing games right now, love," he rambled, cocking his head slightly to the side.

"No, I'm not answering anymore questions until you answer mine."

"We haven't enough time," he growled, still maintaining the smirk on his face. He was trying to be patient, but he could only go for so long. He was used to the usual questions, the usual fear, but this was out of hand in his eyes.

"And why not?"

"That _little_ beacon of yours was like a GPS to your _exact_ location. _They've_ been tracking you for miles and _they're searching for you_."

"What beacon of light?" Crowley growled, his face red.

"Just come the fuck on," he bellowed, reaching for her hand. "Or stay and be zapped into a million little pieces of stardust. I don't care anymore! We need to go! _Now!_" There was a flapping sound in the distance. "Fuck me with an icicle. They're here…" Four men in suits approached the pair slowly, their faces grim. It took Addison a moment until she saw the blades in their hands, the streetlights reflecting in the silver. Grasping, she fell into Crowley and gripped his lapels. She was placing every inch of faith in his hands.

"Well, what were we waiting for?" she asked quietly, staring into his eyes. And with a smirk he popped them both out of Chicago and right into a street riot of a tight, crowded Asian city. "You know, I don't want to seem ungrateful, but does this look _safe_ to you?" He allowed himself a moment to chuckle and dragged her through the crowd. People were screaming and throwing bottles, rocks, and anything they could find at a barricade of police officers a few hundred feet away. They shimmied down a few alleyways and stopped a large iron door with various sigils on it. "What is this?"

"Your new home," he quipped, snapping to open the door.

"No," she muttered, backing into the grime covered building a foot behind them.

"Yes," he insisted, reaching for her.

"Crowley, I have to get back to my family."

"Save it. Your parents are safe. They're protected. I did the protecting while you were out having a late episode of teenage angst." She scowled and folded her arms. "Oh, _pardon me_, have I hurt your feelings?"

"Shut up."

"_Ah,_ seems I have. Well, better bury that anger a bit deeper, love. There's a lot more to be angry about than me calling you out on your character flaws."

"Yeah, you're definitely right about that."

"Am I?" he asked, genuinely shocked.

"Yes."

"_What's that?_" he asked, raising a brow.

"Oh – probably the fact that everyone is _so concerned_ with _protecting me_, yet no one will just come right out and give me any real fucking answers. Let's try that shoe on for size."

"Head inside and we'll talk." He gestured for her to walk in and stepped away. Muttering under her breath she headed into the small room, only slightly bigger than an average sized prison cell. He followed her in and shut the door behind them. "Have a seat." He snapped and procured a bottle of Craig along with a low ball glass. "What do you want to know?" Crowley poured the alcohol into the glass carefully, watching her sit on the small bed in the room.

"What am I?"

"That's not a question I can answer directly."

"Tell me," she ordered. "_Mr. Insurance-Salesman_."

"Now, is hating on my job _honestly necessary?_" he asked after a long drink.

"Tell me."

"You're the one last protector of our world – internationally and interdimensionally."

"_Interdimensionally?_"

"Yes," he answered before drinking again.

"What? - _How?_" Her brow knotted up and she watched him carefully, debating if Crowley was a part of some elaborate kidnapping plot or the bad dream she was still convinced she was having.

"We've all got our destinies…" he trailed off and sat the bottle down after deciding to dump etiquette and fill the entire low ball with scotch.

"I don't feel like a protector of anything," Addison admitted as Crowley sat on the bed beside her. "I mean you saw me that night and tonight. Do I look like a protector to you?" He looked her over from his shoulder and shrugged.

"Honestly, love, _no_. But, you haven't had any training…"

"Training?"

"Yes." She flopped against the bed backwards, sighing. She was quiet for a moment before speaking again.

"Why didn't anyone tell me this before?"

"To protect you. You're the only one who can save us, meaning you're the most wanted. People want you dead. And these people can be anyone. They will stop at nothing to destroy you."

"So there is no real word for what I am?"

"There is, it just isn't spoken often. It's dangerous to use, the people who want you dead are attuned to it. They can show up in two seconds flat and just – " Crowley snapped.

"How did they find me with my – light?"

"Your light is a part of your power," he answered, refilling his glass. "They're attuned to that too." His responses soothed some parts of her fear, she nodded quietly to herself and stared at the back of his head as he tucked down half of his glass.

"So I'm just supposed to drop my entire life now? No more parents? No more school?"

"Yes."

"And why is that? Why can't I have both?" He sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask way too many questions?" She folded her arms stubbornly and sighed. He chuckled, procuring a second low ball glass prefilled with Craig. He held it behind him for her and she took it from his hands slowly.

"What is this?" He hushed her.

"Just drink it, love." Addison took a small sip of it and her face twisted. "We'll start training tomorrow morning. You've been living with humans for too long so this training is going to be rigorous," he warned, dusting himself off as he stood up from the bed.

"When will I be able to see my parents?"

"As soon as we're finished," he answered after a quick drink.

"Right. So do you have any actual plan besides me sitting here watching you get smashed?"

"You're looking at stage one, love," he admitted, gesturing to the room around them. "Welcome to Seoul, the one place we can hide from your daddies and train in absolute peace."

"Stop calling me that," she quipped, sitting the glass on the bedside table.

"Having an effect on you, is it?"

"No," she muttered, the tingling in her back returning.

"Right." He snapped his glass away and dusted his hands off before adjusting the cuffs on his jacket. "Best sleep now," he spoke, smirking. "I'll be back in about eight hours to start your training. Sleep well, _love_." And with a snap, he was gone.

**XXXXX**

**SPRING, CANISBAY : 17****TH**** CENTURY**

Fergus McLeod sat hunched over a chalice of ale. His white long sleeved work shirt was stained with sweat after a hard evening of work at the shop. Royalty was in town expecting brand new wardrobe. He spun his finger around the rim of his drink, trying to ignore the pending doom hanging over his head. For the healthy man he appeared to be – it was odd to know he was considered a dead man in a week's time. A rowdy bar fight erupted beside him as two men fought over a hooker. "Please, God," he mumbled. "Just send help. I need it. Anything you can spare…"

A dark headed woman nearby perked up at the prayer and shifted her olive colored eyes to him. She was wearing a long dress and a tight, long-waisted bodice. The dress was the color of sage, ragged and torn at the hems. "Having a rough 'bout?" the woman asked, scooting closer to Fergus. He looked up and stared at her wistfully, his left hand raking through his dark brown hair. "You can talk about it, you know? I might be able to help you." He snorted and chugged the ale down.

"That's a nice gesture, but there's no way you can," he replied, wiping is mouth off on the end of his shirt sleeve.

"Try me," she quipped back, smiling. He licked his lips and smirked.

"You'll just think I'm crazy."

"Talking about how you made a deal with a crossroads demon and have one week to live definitely sounds crazy to people who haven't heard about these sort of things." His brown eyes widened in shock, his mouth slack.

"How did you – how do you – "

"You're not the first person I've ran into with this sort of problem."

"I didn't even tell you – "

"No need," she explained calmly. "It's a gift of mine."

"You're not a demon are you?" he asked carefully, glancing at the other patrons surrounding them. The woman laughed, shaking her head.

"No, I'm from the _other_ end of the spectrum." Fergus blinked. "I'm Teodora, Angel of God, here at your service," she continued.

"_An angel?_" Teodora nodded slowly. "That's shit. Everyone knows angels don't exist. It's all in the church. They aren't real. They're stories."

"And crossroads demons aren't real either, right?" He shifted uncomfortably. "Let me help you."

"How are you going help me? I made a deal. I sealed it. And by this time seven days from now, I'm a dead man."

"Not if I can help it," she corrected him pointedly.

"And why do you want to help me? Why not let me rot? I made a deal with a demon… isn't that beneath you?"

"It might be, but I heard the way you were talking. You don't want your life taken from you – do you, Fergus?"

"How do you know my name?" he asked, shocked.

"I told you." Another fight broke out and the barkeepers stepped out to clean the bar out. "Just meet me tomorrow night, just after sundown, near the old farm, we'll talk then," she told him before vanishing into the crowd.


	6. Chapter 6: Revius

**AN: Here's an UPDATE! No editing! Thank you guys soooooooo much! - Dee**

**[TIMELINE CONTINUED FROM LAST CHAPTER]**

Fergus paced before a dilapidated wooden fence that once used to be a field for cattle. The owner of the farm had died years ago and his farm fell into disrepair after his son had taken over. He straightened the lapels on his wool coat and mumbled. The sun was falling just beyond the hills, the sky phasing into a soft lavender, darkening at the edges. He rubbed his palms together feverously. A flapping noise sounded to his right, and Fergus fumbled, staring wide eyed at Teodora.

"How did you – "

"Angel," she reminded him, sweetly.

"I almost didn't think you were going to show." She was wearing the same style dress as the night before, except this one was a pale pink. Teodora smiled warmingly.

"Had to make sure we were alone." Fergus stared at her blankly and she waved his thoughts away. "Forget about me. We're focusing on you," she reminded him. "I need you to tell me everything you can remember about this demon."

"I met her in the pub, same one from yesterday. She had black hair, fancy clothes… same that royalty wear…"

"Do you know her name?"

"No." Sighing, Teodora place her first two fingers on his temple. She pulled the information from him quickly, skimming over his deal on fast forward. When she released, he gasped for air and fell backwards into a patch of thick weeds. "What did you do to me?" he asked anxiously, patting his body down.

"I read your mind. Our time is limited, Fergus. Your stammering is slowing us down. I must say, a penis is hardly a thing to sell your soul for." Fergus blushed and rose up from the weeds slowly.

"I might have had too much to drink that night." She smirked.

"Not from what I saw." She looked away politely as he adjusted himself.

"Are you here to judge me or help me?" he grumbled.

"Help you, of course! That was rude of me. You are lucky though, I do know the demon you made a deal with. It shouldn't be too hard to summon her."

"How do you know her if you're an angel?" Teodora shrugged.

"I like to help those that need it. I've helped others like you. I've heard about this demon's name. It's used quite often. She's a bit tricky to catch, but first, we need to get to your house."

"We can't," he replied. His son and wife hadn't seen him in days and his family wouldn't understand his predicament. He barely knew either one of them.

"Why not?" she asked, before reaching out to grab his hand.

"Wife and I aren't… you know, on good terms?"

"Brothel it is then." She grabbed his hand and sat their feet down inside the brothel in town. It was the second largest wooden and stone structure there. The room was small, without a bed. Where the bed usually sat, a summoning table was in its place. "Back against that wall, and mind the salt line," she told him, examining the devil's trap she had drawn on the ground for any imperfections. Fergus did as he was asked, no questions. "This _might_ take a while," she warned. "You've mixed yourself in with what you would refer to as a duke of hell." Teodora fixed a few utensils and bowls to their proper places and smiled at Fergus. "I promise you, that you will be fine." Fergus returned her smile sheepishly and gulped. She threw bits and pieces of herbs and other materials into a large wooden bowl in the center of the table, muttering a summoning spell under her breathe. As the blood of a lamb drizzled over the herbs, the temperature in the room increased. And after a lick of flame from a candle, the devil's rap became occupied with a pop.

"_Teodora_, how should I have known?" purred the red-eyed female demon. "Out trying to save the world still?"

"And I see you're still farming deals off of drunks at pubs, Iris."

"You know the business," the demon added, flicking her eyes back to normal. "You're wasting your time on old Fergus over here. There's a high price on his head."

"Can't be that high if you're in charge."

"My boss needs security considering there's some _vigilante angel_ out killing us off," Iris quipped. Teodora smiled, stepping closer to the trap.

"Release his deal."

"Or what? You're going to exorcise me? Because you know the minute I arrive in hell, my boss will be here, ready to fight. We all know you can exorcise us, but we'll be back. Must be such a shame to know you can't smite us, you know – _because the big boys upstairs will be watching_ –"

"I can smite you if I'd like."

"And put _yourself _in jeopardy? All for this _pathetic_ tailor?" Iris made a hushed tsk noise. "You'd really send the angels trumpeting in here over this hairless monkey who's only wish was to have a larger cock? Seems a little low doesn't it?"

"He's still a human."

"Oh, please. Cut the angel training shit out. You haven't been out of hiding in centuries. There's a high price on your head as well. Angels have made it well known."

"What's she talking about?" Fergus asked, looking at Teodora.

"Ignore her, Fergus. She's trying to manipulate the both of us into releasing her. Just ignore her."

"Oh, she didn't tell you?" Iris sang, turning to smile widely at the human. "_Your angel_ is the most wanted in heaven. All because she can pop out little half angel – half human babies. Apparently angels still resent the shit out of you humans. They hold grudges pretty bad I guess." Teodora felt anger swell in her chest. "Whoa, did I just sense an emotion from you?" Iris asked, looking at Teodora again. "My, I guess you have been away from your brethren for too long. These humans are rubbing off on you." The angel breathed out slowly and closed her eyes. "I would have some rage built up too if every sibling of mine was trying to kill me and my children to – " The anger reared its head again, Teodora's face flushed and she screamed out loudly.

"I _command_ you to stop talking," she shouted, her voice shattering the glass out of the window. She knew she would never be able to fulfill her purpose on Earth, never be able to give a child life and help raise a nephilim. Her brothers and sisters would never accept her in heaven and would never stop pursuing her. Iris clapped slowly. With another shout, Teodora fluttered in front of Iris and firmly placed her hard on Iris' head. "Cover your eyes, Fergus," she yelled. Fergus crouched down on his knees, his hands over his eyes. Grace flowed from the angel and killed the demon immediately, blasting her soul into the depths of purgatory through her eyes and mouth. "Tell your boss, I welcome his company," she muttered as the body fell to the ground. Panting, she wiped her forehead off onto the back of her arm and straightened out her dress. "You can open your eyes, Fergus." He rose slowly from his crouch, staring at the body on the wooden floor. "You need to leave as _quickly_ as you can," she ordered. "Angels and demons and _God only knows what else_ is headed _our way_." Hellhounds howled in the distance. "Shit," she muttered, glancing out of the shattered window to see a hoard of humans possessed by demons gathered in the streets. "Get back into the salt line," she screamed, scrambling for her angel blade as fluttering noises smothered the small room.

"_Teodora_," sang a bright and cheerful Zachariah. He had taken control of a king from Germany at the moment. The king had long flowing blonde hair and tall, square shoulders. Rumbling and popping occurred all around the wooden brothel.

"Stay away from me, Zachariah," she warned, holding up the angel blade. Zachariah smiled wide.

"Oh, come on now! Let's put that old thing down and talk like civilized adults! We're both too old for games and tricks!" Gabriel stepped up slowly from behind Teodora and held up his blade. The smiled from Zachariah's face faded. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, staring at Gabriel. "You've been gone for decades."

"Standing up for her, because I know none of these other _damn bird brains will_," he quipped, tossing his head over his shoulder. Zachariah laughed slowly.

"Zachariah," boomed a voice from the doorway. A white demon entered slowly, his long black hair tangled behind him. The head crossroads demon, Revius, stopped feet away from Zachariah and flicked his eyes back to his vessel's. "You have no business here."

"I believe I have all the business here, you little ant. This angel has a price on her head so large that none of you can even fathom."

"She killed my daughter," Revius snapped. "She's been killing my children off one by one the last year!"

"I am well aware of the situation," Zachariah quipped, turning to face Revius face on. "But your needs come second."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"We need to leave," Gabriel whispered to Teodora, trying not to be heard or noticed by the head demon and angel in the room.

"Not without Fergus," Teodora whispered back, slightly nodding in the human's direction.

"You even so much as bat an eyelash at that man and I will take him now," Revius threatened, bringing his hellhound to his side. He patted the large dog's head beside him.

"Same goes for _both of those angels_," Zachariah added. "Both of them have crimes they need to answer for in heaven."

"You think you are above everyone, Zachariah. You are a fool for that. One day, someone will put you in your place."

"But today is not that day," he sighed. Five angels appeared at his side as more hellhounds manifested at Revius' side. The hounds attacked the angels on site. Gabriel and Teodora fluttered to Fergus and dropped him into an iron cell warded with demonic and angelic sigils. A second later the possessed town of Canisbay appeared outside of the cell, all waiting for him to take a step out of the small five foot by five foot room. Teodora and Gabriel landed on the outskirts of the town, where a small group of twenty or so hellhounds was waiting, each one took their time slaughtering them as Zachariah and Revius had it out. After an hour, Zachariah fluttered beside them and smiled.

"Give up the human and you will live," he commanded. "I cannot guarantee how long, but you'll live," he told Teodora with a smile.

"Leave it alone, Zachariah, I'm the one you want," Gabriel told him, stepping before her. Zachariah stared at him, his eyes bulging. He laughed after a short minute.

"Don't be so full of yourself!" the angel laughed, hunching over.

"Have it your way then," Gabriel added and with a whoosing noise, hellfire rose up in a ring around the angel.

"You fool!" he shouted at the two angels, anger written on his face. "I will smite you both before this over!"

"Is that so?" Gabriel asked, placing a hand on his chin. "I'd like to see that!" he added after a short second, a wide grin on his face. The both of them fluttered to Fergus to find him missing from the cage. Dead bodies of the ones who had been possessed littered the ground before them. Teodora searched the grounds endlessly until she found a beaten and bruised shell of Fergus in a large cave just south of his town. He was curled against a large boulder his shoulders shaking.

"Fergus?" she asked calmly, stepping closer to him. He shuddered with fear at the sound of her voice. The howling she heard gave away the clue. "Fergus, I will not let them hurt you," she told him sweetly, healing a few of the large rips down his back. He was shirtless, only wearing a ragged pair of black trousers that he was wearing earlier.

"The man told me it was my time," he stuttered, still grasping the boulder. "He said I was the next in line. That I needed to fulfill my destiny…."

"It's not your time," she assured him.

"It is," he whispered. She placed another hand on him and he scowled. "Don't touch me!" he cursed, rubbing himself. She jumped back and watched as flames licked up around him at his ankles. Fergus laughed as the flames slowly engulfed him. Gabriel appeared at her side and with flick of her wings, she was gone just as Fergus was.


	7. Chapter 7: Lannister

**AN: Thank you guys! I promise the storyline will start to pick up soon, I just wanted to make sure I had all of these details out of the way first! I had to go to bed right after typing this up, so no edits or read-throughs! - Dee**

**XXXXX**

**[SPRING, FULDA GERMANY : 5 YEARS POST-CANISBAY]**

After Fergus was summoned to hell to pay for his end of the deal, Gabriel and Teodora hid out in various places for a few months, staying together in case of an ambush. But Gabriel soon wore tired and restless of being "cooped up" and needed to "stretch his wings for a while." Teodora returned to the mundane, using small bits of grace in short spurts to heal the sick. She avoided crossroads demons and the like, keeping her distance with anyone who had a death sentence on their head. She closed the door to her small wooden cabin and sat at her desk, looking over the map laid out before her.

"You're a hard woman to find," voiced a man from the corner. She jumped in instinctively, her wings arching behind her.

"How did you get in?" she asked, raking her eyes over the sigils on the walls. She could tell the man was a demon. Focusing on the snarled, red-eyes in the corner, she waited for him to move.

"I paid a boy in town to sneak in and mess up a few of your sigils," he answered, running a finger down the slick wooden beam beside him. He was ragged looking, haggard, more or less a drunk from town.

"What for? Who are you?"

"I have a couple of different names now. You probably know me best by Fergus McLeod."

"Fergus?" she asked, cautiously, scrunching her eyes up as if it would help her see him past his vessel. "Is that really you?" He smirked and bowed his head.

"Aye, lass," he mumbled. Teodora smiled, but it fell quickly.

"I am so sorry…" she started, bowing her head in the same fashion.

"For what, pet?" he asked quietly, closing the distance between them.

"This wasn't supposed to happen to you." He shrugged and glanced down at her map, placing a hand on the edge of the wrinkled paper.

"It wasn't your fault, Teodora. I understand how everything works now and your situation." She watched him, uneasy about a demon in her cabin. The human he once was had spent 600 years in hell, she wasn't sure what he wanted besides revenge. Revenge for his death and the empty promise of safety and protection. "I am not here to harm you," he told her calmly. "I only came to tell you thank you."

"What I did hardly constitutes for a thank you, Fergus."

"I actually go by Crowley now."

"Crowley? Why Crowley?" He smiled and slightly shook his head at the angel.

"I just liked it. And I needed a new persona for my new job."

"Which is?" Crowley held his arms out, bowing.

"The _new _duke of hell."

"Congratulations," she spoke, not really sure what he wanted to hear or what to even say.

"Thank you." He smiled and plopped down on a spare throw she had on the floor. "There was a lot of chaos when I first arrived. A lot of madness since Revius was killed and a majority of his children, but I managed."

"You're happy like this?" She was careful in her phrasing, not wanting to offend him. All she could see was the anxious Scotsman begging for help the night she met him. She couldn't see him in this new light, confident, cocky, and happy. Happy to be a demon – it was off putting.

"For now," Crowley answered with a smile. "And you have nothing to worry about. I'm not angry at you. Just let me know when you may need help, I'll be there. You threw yourself into a line of fine for me and I wouldn't be where and who I am without you. I will repay you in any way I can."

"No strings attached? Because you know I don't have a soul to collect, right?" He laughed lightheartedly.

"Yes, I know. No strings attached. A special gift, me to you." She smiled, happy to have a friend in her corner, even if he was a demon. Crowley stood and stretched out of habit. "I really should be going, I have a long line of deals to collect tonight. I'll see you around, eh?" Teodora nodded. "Call if you need me, love." And with a wink and a snap, he was gone.

**XXXXX**

**DECEMBER, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA : 2 YEARS AGO**

Crowley stood in a short line of customers inside of a bakery on the outskirts of West End in London, tapping his foot heavily on the linoleum. He was on his way to take Addison food, regardless of the fact that he knew she didn't need it. It was a comfort for her at this point. He knew that he needed every bit of comfort and trust with her for his plan to work out. He rolled his eyes and sighed loudly as an elderly woman before her changed her order five times. "This is the perfect hell and I damn near spent six centuries being _tortured there_," he muttered. The man waiting behind him, thinking Crowley was just being funny, agreed whole heartedly. Crowley smirked at the man and turned back around. After twenty minutes more, Crowley had obtained a fresh blueberry scone and was rounding the corner to pop into Seoul from the alley, until a tall, thin black man popped right before him.

"Sir, we need you," Lannister ordered, saluting Crowley.

"For Lucifer's sake, Lannister, stop saluting me, I'm your boss, not your damn Colonel," he barked, scanning the streets for any gawkers.

"Sorry, sir." Lannister dropped his tight stance, but kept his head raised, focus on something off in the distance.

"Just come on with it. What do you need? You I'm busy."

"Yes, with the operation, sit," he spoke, repeating Crowley's words from earlier in the day. Crowley exhaled slowly, his lip snarling.

"Well? You going to just stand there all day _or what_?"

"We were curious, what would you like us to do while you convert the nephilim, sir?" Lannister wasn't a very old demon, he only had a little over fifty years under his belt, but he had a lot of potential when he wasn't stuck in his old military ways.

"_Who's_ curious?"

"The boys." Crowley had recruited demons of all ages to help him in his conquest. He was going to need help anyway within the next few years as hell was opened and Lucifer released from his cage. Everything was already falling into line, the Righteous Man had made his deal with one of his crossroad demons and – he just couldn't be happier.

"I made that very simple, if I do recall. Stay away from Seoul and me," he commanded. "I don't give a bloody fuck what you lot do with the rest of your time."

"But, sir – " Crowley growled, his face turning red. "We are just worried. We know you have an attachment to her. How easy is it for you to trick her like this? And how can you go about getting her pregnant without all of the extras?" Crowley had devised a plan years ago, while Addison was still in diapers… he was going to use Addison for a shield against Lucifer, and use any and all deception to get her pregnant. It had been said that the child of a demon mixed with any amount of grace would produce the most powerful antichrist in the world. He knew that after Addison had destroyed Lucifer that hell would need a new king – and Crowley was more than prepared to fill that role. His child would rule him, keeping him in power for all of eternity.

"Have you morons forgotten that I am a demon?"

"No, sir, we just…"

"Get out of my face before I splatter yours across these bricks, Lannister," Crowley warned, squaring his shoulders. Lannister removed himself from his sight, leaving Crowley alone as he had requested. "Fucking hell," he cursed. "I really need a better interviewing strategy." Within two seconds he went from London to Seoul, just outside of Addison's room. He knocked twice politely and stepped away. He could have popped into her room, but he knew this was just another way to gain trust.

"Who is it?" Addison asked cautiously from the other side of the door.

"It's me, love," Crowley answered, unable to hide his smirk. He could hear her sigh heavily. She yanked the heavy steel door open a hair and allowed him to let himself in. When he walked in the rest of the way he found her coiled up in bed, only a black sports bra and jeans on. Her hair was a mess on her head, her curls wild and untamed. He caught himself staring at the dips of her collarbones. Quickly, he handed her the paper bag with the scone and a small paper cup of coffee.

"Oh my god! Food!" she squeaked, tearing into the bag. She bit a large hunk of the scone off before taking a careful sip of coffee. "Thank you!" Crowley smiled his welcome, giving her tiny nod.

"How'd you sleep?"

"How _could_ I sleep?" she choked, looking at him confusedly. "Between the gun shots, random shouting in some foreign language and what not!"

"It's not that bad around here." Crowley gestured to her tiny room and sank into a spot at the foot of her bed.

"I guess you'd think that if you weren't _being forced_ to live here," she spoke. Her look changed from confused to pointed. Addison took a long gulp of coffee and crunched the cup up in the hand.

"You'll be home soon enough," he told her. He snapped to procure a calendar and television for her. He had only provided her with the basics at first: a bed, shower, toilet, sink, and a few dressers that doubled as side tables. The hygiene area was separated by a tall wooden partition and that was all she had except for the four large concrete walls surrounding her.

"Great – Korean television, I can _hardly _wait," she sang sarcastically.

"Believe it or not, I _am _sorry you have to be here, you know? I'm only trying to protect you."

"Just tell me what we're hiding from and I'd stop being so difficult. Is it actually demons?" she asked. Addison stared at him, her green eyes searching him for any nonverbal cues.

"For the second time – _who _told _you_ about demons?"

"The _who_ isn't the issue, Crowley." Crowley had fought for years, almost every year she had been alive and under his care, to keep the supernatural away from her. There was no way she knew about anything of that nature. Her parents were proofing the hotel room they were staying at when he laced it with hex bags, but he didn't know why. "Just tell me, Crowley." He sighed.

"Yes, demons are real," he admitted, not open to sharing much more. He knew this would help him in the long run, but he could only go so far to keep from jeopardizing himself.

"What else is real?"

"Almost anything you can think of, love." She smiled and curled a blanket over her shoulders.

"So those men were demons?"

"Somewhat… all of the who and what's important matters later. You'll learn about the monsters, creatures, and witches of this earth as we train and send you out to fight. But we need the basics first."

"We're going to train here, in this prison cell?" Addison asked, smirking ever so slightly.

"_No, Sherlock_," he quipped back, grabbing her arm. The pair landed in a flat, open field with an ocean bordering one side, a forest along the rest. Crowley snapped. A large boulder silently fell before them. He snapped again and changed her wardrobe into something more suitable for movement – black running shorts and a black racer back tank top. "Break this rock down," he ordered her, pointing at the boulder.

"With what?" she asked, glancing around for tools.

"Your hands."

"I can't! That's impossible!"

"You really have been around humans for too long." He crossed the few feet of space between them, placing his head just over her right shoulder. "You need to quit thinking like a human. You are not a human. You are above space and time. You are not affected by disease, pain, or death. You've been trained to be a human and I'm here to _un-train_ it. You don't even need to eat, breathe, or sleep. You only did those out of habit because your parents did and that's what they taught you. Just relax and open your mind. Your natural instinct will come through on its own." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Crowley, there is no – "

"Just try it first," he insisted, cutting her off. "Close your eyes," he whispered. She did so hesitantly, focusing on the growling part of his voice. "Focus on a small ball of white light." She opened her mouth to ask why and he predicted it before she even spoke. "Don't ask why. Just do it." Addison exhaled forcefully and obeyed. "Let the light wash over you slowly, let it fill you up." The tingling in her back returned, heat rushing down her body. "Hit it when you're ready," he whispered again, his mouth less than an inch from her ear. With a long breath in she reeled her fist back and into the boulder, a large cracking sound echoed around them from the blow. Addison fell forward as the rock crumbled around her.

"Are you fucking serious?" she yelled, looking in horror at the newly formed gravel. Crowley laughed and picked up a smooth egg sized rock at his feet. He spun it in his hand, pleased with the results. "What kind of joke is this? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, love. I'm afraid that was all you." He smirked at his golden ticket to royalty. "I bet you can knock one of those trees down."

"Knock a tree down?" Anxiety filled each of her words.

"Yes, but actually – no. Wait. Why don't you rip it out of the ground for me? She rose slowly to her feet. "And break it in half while you're at it," he added, throwing the rock into the water. "Go on with it," he barked, waving her off, as she stared helplessly at him. Crowley procured a glass of Craig as she marched across the tall grass. The second the liquor hit his lips, he snapped the glass away as three of his men approached him from the shoreline. All of their eyes were trained on Addison yards away. "What in the hell are you doing here?" he growled. He teleported to a foot before them, ineffectively blocking their view of _his_ nephilim. "I thought I made myself clear." He scowled at Lannister in the middle.

"Sir, this is urgent," Lannister stammered. Addison pulled the tree out with ease and tossed it aside as she noticed the three new men. Crowley turned to watch her and cursed as she walked towards them.

"Like what? What the bloody hell is going on? Something better be seriously happening or I'll kill the three of you. I mean – hell better be freezing over or _whatever the term is_…"

"There's trouble with the men, sir."

"Men? What men?" Crowley snapped.

"The girl's parents…" Lannister started.

"What?" Addison asked, panicking, making eye contact with Lannister as she stopped a few feet behind Crowley.

"Thank you, Lannister," Crowley muttered, angrily.

"Crowley what's wrong with my parents?"

"They're surrounded by ang –" Lannister started.

"Angry men – the ones looking for you," Crowley finished.

"Well, let's go," she ordered, dusting her hands off.

"No."

"What the hell do you mean, _no?_"

"Exactly what I meant when I just said it. No," he replied, snapping the men away.

"And who are you to tell me no?"

"Someone who doesn't want to see you die!" Crowley bit back.

"These are _my parents_, Crowley," she whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"If you go there now, all you will find is their dead bodies and then they'll slaughter you – just like they did your mother." Crowley stopped talking abruptly after he heard himself say what he had. The words hit her deep, the expression written all over her face.

"Excuse me?" she asked slowly.

"Your mother," he repeated. "They – these men at your parents right now – they killed her."

"My mother is dead?" Her voice became a soft and quiet shell of itself – hollowed.

"Yes, love. I'm sorry. She died the same night I dropped you off at your parents."

"You were there?"

"Yes." Tears rolled from her eyes all at once, streaking down her cheeks. They matted her dark lashes together. She breathed in and out in deep ragged breaths. Crowley tucked her head against his chest and kissed the top of it. Her emotions about it were much more than he had expected.

"Will they kill my parents either way?"

"More than likely." He knew he couldn't give her fake hope. They would either smite the men or obtain them as vessels. They were both men of God, he knew the minute Tyrael and Zachariah told them they were angels of the Lord that Addison's chances of seeing them again were slim to none.

"Why can't we show up and kill them, Crowley?"

"They're much too powerful. They would rip the both of us to pieces. You need training. After your training, you can take on as many as your heart desires, easily."

"Will you please teach me everything I need to know to do that?" she asked, burying the side of her face deeper into his chest.

"_I plan to my love_," he whispered, smiling as he combed a hand through her hair.


	8. Chapter 8: Lilu

**AN: Having a few days of no homework = UPDATE! Thank you so much for following! Just a fair warning before this story starts to pick up = I don't exactly follow the Supernatural timeline to a T, so if that bothers you or irritates you at all, I apologize. I don't deviate from the order of which things happen, but the time between things may be a little different. Anyway, I'll shut up and let you get onto reading. I did a quick (and by quick I mean like ten minutes) read through of this and corrected a few errors I found. There might be a few more. Anyway, I will really shut up now! Thanks again and enjoy! - Dee**

**SUMMER, BOSTON, MIELKE HOUSE : 17 YEARS AGO**

Crowley watched over Addison from outside, peering into the house as she pulled a container of Legos out of her closet, spilling the tiny plastic bricks all across the carpet. He smirked silently to himself in the shadows of the unseen human dimension, keeping a watchful eye on his prize. Gabriel fluttered into his left, his long brown hair combed back. He was wearing what appeared to be a fast food uniform. The angel greeted Crowley with a small nod.

"What are you doing here?" Crowley muttered, not wanting to be too friendly with the angel.

"I have my own means of tracking people, Crowley," Gabriel sighed, peering in at Addison. "Who do you think visits her when you're not here?"

"Stay away from her," he commanded, stepping closer to push him away from the window.

"Ah, _Legos_," he whispered almost to himself, not stepping away. "Jeez, these kids today have it so good. All of the toys and games and what not." He exhaled, his shoulders heaving up and down.

"What do you want, Gabriel?" Crowley asked as Gabriel turned around, a closed mouth smile frozen on his face.

"Jeez, aren't you a _good little guard dog?_" Gabriel taunted. "I'm just checking in on the little squirt. Because believe it or not, no matter how humanized she gets, _she'll still be one of me_. And I was friends with Teodora. That was one side I was still on in the middle of this supernatural bullshit. Angels killing angels is never a good thing. Especially when said angel was only doing her duty as written by God."

"Well, in that case, if you're interested in what's best for the child, you should know that Teodora requested Addison live a human life. She doesn't want her involved in any of the angel-apocalypse nonsense."

"Yeah, I heard about that, too," Gabriel added. "But-" he held a finger up before the demon. Crowley's face twisted at the gesture. "What about fate?" Gabriel's eyebrow raised, the smirk so common on Crowley's face was now well written on Gabriel's.

"Fate?"

"Yes, fate, you know the rules of the land…" he threw his hand out dramatically. "The ones we are all bound by…"

"We are not bound by fate. Fate is just something an old hag created to make money in romantic novels."

"Pretty sure I can vouch for them and say that yes… _they_ are real and _do exist_. And definitely real after you sleep with one too," he quipped, shaking a bad memory off of a bad week he spent after he never returned to the one particular sister he slept with.

"So what are you here for? Trying to warn me that one day fate is going to fall into her hands?"

"More or less," he answered, procuring a sucker to pop into his mouth.

"Not if I can help it."

"Oh, _trust me_, I know you think you're _Mr. Tough-Guy-Demon-Of-The-Land and all_, but fate is not a sister you wanna play with, you feel what I'm saying?"

"I dare her to step foot near this house," Crowley warned, summoning a horde of hellhounds to surround the house with a snap. Gabriel stared at him, his expression unchanged.

"I'm only here to warn you. I've seen the way this plays out. And it definitely isn't the cookie cutter way you have planned."

"Who says I have anything planned?" Crowley asked, suspiciously, fearing that the angel had caught onto his true plans for Addison. Gabriel's eyes scrunched up and he took a step closer, looking at the demon eye to eye.

"I'm not saying you do. I'm not saying you _don't_. Just hear me out when I say that this will not end the way you think it will. Call it a friendly warning, because I _still _do see_ some_ pride and appreciation for what you're doing, regardless of you being a _soul sucking bastard_," Gabriel replied, rolling the sucker into his cheek. Crowley quietly took in what the angel was saying. He knew that Gabriel was wise, but his pride could not see past what he was saying. The angel didn't know his plans. He didn't know Crowley's true plans for her: that she was still going to be a part of the apocalypse, she was still going to fight. She was going to destroy both Michael and Lucifer for him. But there was no way Gabriel could see that.

"Anything more you'd like to say?" Crowley asked, relieving the hellhounds of their duty. Gabriel held eye contact with him a few moments more.

"Not at this point in time. But, I will be around," he added before fluttering off.

**XXXXX**

**DECEMBER, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA : 2 YEARS AGO**

Addison flopped onto the bed heavily. They had been training for almost a full week straight, doing nothing but utilizing her strength and testing out her other abilities. Mostly just speed and endurance. Crowley popped in a moment after he had sent her there. He had been searching for a spell in Enochian that he could use to help replenish her energy. She hadn't completely tapped into her grace reserve yet and was still running like a human. She was mentally and physically exhausted from everything. He thought about calling for Gabriel to help, but he feared what would happen to Addison if he did. He was afraid that Gabriel would take Addison and train her himself, leaving Crowley completely out of the picture. Crowley knew enough Enochian to help prepare the nephilim without telling her exactly what she was and utilizing every single one of her abilities, yet it was becoming harder and harder to get to that point without grace.

"I'm _so_ tired," she mumbled, burying her sweat covered face into the pillow.

"You know you really ought to shower first," Crowley insisted, straightening out his lapels in the mirror of her bathroom. "You know, before you lay all over your bed covered in sweat."

"Can it," she taunted back, her voice heavy. She was barely on the cusp of sleep, ready to completely fall into the abyss, sweaty or not, she didn't care. He walked out into the room, prepared to throw back another rib until he realized she was sleeping. Her chest was rising and falling slowly and evenly, the entire back of her tank top drenched in sweat. With a snap, he cleaned her clothes and sheets. Smirking, the demon pulled a blanket on top of her and hesitated at the thought of kissing her cheek. It seemed so natural for him to do.

He stopped just before doing so and popped out of the room and into his spacious office at his headquarters equipped with big screen television and fireplace. Growley, his hellhound, peered up at him from the wooden floor he was snuggled into beside the fireplace. His demonic owner smiled and withdrew a glass and bottle of scotch from his desk, setting them both on the top. Crowley poured himself a glass without using his power and watched the flames in the fireplace. He tried to re-imagine what hell was like briefly. It had been a few months since he had been back. His lips touched the edge of the glass when he heard a creak from a room over. He paused and sat the glass back down, his eyes closing. He was finally able to have some time alone and now this visitor arrives. When the visitor didn't come straight in, Crowley sighed heavily.

"Might as well come on in, no point in trying to act like I didn't hear you," he ordered, stepping around to sit in the heavy padded office chair behind the desk. He kicked his feet up and snapped the glass over, taking a long sip. A long legged blonde walked in slowly from the side door. Growley perked up from his spot on the wooden floor, taking in the visitor. His mauled black ear twitched as he sniffed the air. "It's fine, boy," he muttered, squinting his eyes up. The blonde smiled, her black eyes smiling with her mouth. "_Lilu_…" Crowley smiled at her after a second, finally realizing who she was.

"Crowley. How is my _favorite _demon?" she purred, taking a seat on the corner of his desk near his feet.

"Exhausted," he replied, presenting his full glass of scotch. She smiled, her red lips contrasting against her ultra-white teeth. Her eyes were no longer black, they were now a soft, hazy blue.

"I would imagine so, I haven't seen you around much. Don't you like going on hunts anymore with me?" Lilu asked curiously, her pin straight blonde hair falling like silk over her shoulder. She was dressed in almost the same fashion as Crowley, all black, business coat, and tight pencil skirt. Their hunts had mostly consisted of them finding poor, helpless souls to make deals with in the area, then spending hours on end in the bedroom.

"I do, darling. I've just been rather – " he stopped when he imagined Addison curled up in bed alone. His mind was racing with different ideas, different ways he could acquire Gabriel's help indirectly. Lilu watched him, her smile still plastered on her face.

"Occupied?" she added, finishing his statement for him.

"Yes." Crowley took a drink and held the glass lightly in his fingers, watching the flames from the fire through his glass.

"What has you so occupied?" she asked, rising from the desk to take a spot on his lap.

"I'm afraid that's private," he answered, placing the glass on the floor for his hellhound to take a drink from it.

"Since when are things between us private?" Crowley's eyebrows rose up slowly. He tried to focus on the woman's face, but could only see Enochian symbols before him. Sighing, he ran his hands down over his eyes. Lilu's face fell. "It's another woman, isn't it?" She squinted, rising slowly from his lap. Crowley snapped back, briefly when he realized what she had asked. He couldn't give an immediate answer. "Crowley!" she shouted, scowling at him.

"Yes!" he answered, knowing it was the only way he would be able to get her to leave him alone about the subject. He couldn't have her interfering in his business. No one else could know about Addison. There were already the twenty or so demons that worked for him that knew. He couldn't add anyone else to plate, especially Lilu – the proposed daughter of War, one of the four horsemen. "It's another woman." He attempted to look torn about the idea of saying it to her, but he wasn't even really sure what face to make.

"I knew it," she mumbled, pointing a finger at him. "What is she, huh? Some new little soul you've picked up in the mix? Was it that blonde that we picked up in Oregon a few weeks ago?" Crowley's eyebrows knotted up as he listened to her rant. "_It was_, _wasn't it?_" she screamed.

"What? What the hell are you on about?" he asked.

"You heard me! _How dare you!_ Especially when you know who I am! My father will get you for this!"

"If you think I'm afraid of some little sissy metrosexual with a fancy little gold ring, I suggest you get on with it, woman. I should have known better than to give you my time in the first place. You and your father are completely out of sorts. And if you think you're going to bring that sort of insane madness into _my_ house, you are wrong." Growley rose from the floor, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His red eyes were no longer plan, they were ablaze, roaring with fight. Lilu looked down at the hellhound, her eyes widening, taking their black form again.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't dare what?" Crowley asked curiously, raising his eyebrows.

"You crossroad demons are all the same! All about screwing the other man!"

"_Or woman_," he added with a smirk.

"This is not the last you will see of me."

"That's what they all say," Crowley told her with a toothy grin. She growled and snapped out just as his hellhound began to approach her. Growley turned to look at his owner, almost pleading him for the order to chase after her. "Not today, boy," he sighed, walking over to pet his back. "But, soon," he added. "Very soon."

**XXXXX**

**[THREE WEEKS LATER]**

Addison collapsed on the ground, struggling to take a good long breath after she had demolished the entire side of a mountain in twenty minutes. Crowley appeared at her side, cigar in his mouth. "You call that destroying a mountain, do you? Collapsing only after destroying _half of it_?" He hid the fear that he was going to kill her deep down. He was praying on a miracle that her grace would take over – almost like an autopilot. But it had been four weeks and it seemed she was still in the same state.

"Could you not?" she breathed, taking a harsh breath in.

"Well…"

"Shut the hell up a minute, Crowley. I'm fucking trying alright?" She took another deep breath in and pushed the hair stuck to her face from sweat back into place. With a few quick swipes her hair was up in a knotted bun. Lannister popped up next to the both of them, his face grim.

"Lannister! Ah, yes, what news do you have?" Crowley asked, taking the cigar out of his mouth.

"We've found it, sir."

"Brilliant!"

"Shall I send out the men?" Crowley smiled and looked to Addison.

"No, I have a much better idea…" he spoke, trailing off as he spoke to Lannister. "Addison," Crowley started.

"What is it now, _boss_?" she snapped, eyeballing the next spot she could smash into on the mountain.

"I need you to go and retrieve something for me."

"What am I now, your servant?" she barked. "You spend hours every day telling me what to do, telling me to break things, kill things, kill animals… now I'm going to start fetching your coffee, is that it?"

"If you consider a gun and coffee the same thing – then yes."

"Who would consider those two things the – "

"Are you willing or not?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, nodding her head, ready to get out for a while. She hadn't seen anything outside of the room in Seoul and the training grounds in weeks.

"Good," Crowley added with a smile. "Let's get you ready then." He snapped her out to the room and turned to Lannister.

"Sir, is that wise?" Lannister questioned. "She hasn't trained long."

"I've taught her everything she could possibly know at this point. This is like judgment day. She'll actually need to kill people."

"But you don't even know where the colt is exactly, sir."

"Well, then go on. Where is it?"

"A coven in Blue Earth, Minnesota."

"_Blue Earth?_ Why am I _not_ surprised there is a coven there?"

"Sir, this is not funny. I don't think it's wise you send her in there." Crowley scowled at his minion.

"Who's the next in line for the throne, Lannister?"

"You are, sir."

"So – you know what I think?" Lannister's jaw snapped shut and he shook his head meekly. "I think you ought to shut your fuckin' mouth and _let the boss do his job_." Crowley ported himself out and into Addison's room to find her scrambling for new non-sweaty clothes to put on.

"Where am I going?" she asked, running behind the partition to change in the bathroom.

"Blue Earth, Minnesota," Crowley replied with a smile. He sat down on his typical spot on her bed, snapping to procure a map of the small town. Lannister had marked the spot and had written the address next to it on a post-it note.

"That's an actual place?" she laughed, zipping up a black hoodie jacket over a white t-shirt.

"According to this map and my men, yes."

"Who would have thought?" She pulled on a pair of tight pink leggings and walked around the partition to put her shoes on. "What am I doing there?"

"You're going to have to fight your way to a colt. It's something I've been looking for a long time. There's a coven of witches there guarding it."

"Witches? _A coven?_" Her green eyes enlarged.

"Yes."

"How many are in a coven?" she asked, quietly.

"About twenty or thirty," the demon told her, shrugging.

"Twenty or _thirty?_" He nodded. "You do realize that's quite a difference, right?"

"Not for you, love."

"Right," she added, trying not to sound sarcastic.

"Ready?"

"Sure," she told Crowley, full of sarcasm this time. He snapped and they appeared five miles south of the coven, standing in a frozen over field. She stared in shock at the change in scenery. She had hoped he would have picked up on the sarcasm, but he didn't seem to get anyone else's sarcasm but his own. The ground was frozen and hard, the winter air of January whipping past them. The sky was black and clear, dotted with millions of stars, a full moon hanging just above them.

"Give 'em hell, love." He started to snap and Addison held her hand up.

"Wait, you're not staying?" she asked confusedly, eyeballing the large ranch style house in the distance.

"I can't stay," he answered, lowering his hand temporarily. "It's not safe for me."

"But it's safe for me?" Crowley rolled his eyes and smirked.

"If the people in that house find out who I am – or if anyone is watching, we'll put the both of us jeopardy. Just trust me. You'll be fine."

"But what if something goes wrong? What if I need you for some reason?" Crowley sighed and placed an old gold coin looped onto a thin black thread into her hand.

"Put this around your neck," Crowley ordered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black wool pea coat.

"What is some coin going to help?" she asked him, placing the necklace on. She held the small gold coin up to the moonlight and squinted at it.

"I can hear you when you're wearing it. If anything at all happens to you – I promise I'll be there." Addison nodded, unsure. She squared her shoulders and stared at the house, she could sense some form of aura around the house. It almost felt as if there was a sheet laying over it, like it wasn't meant to be noticed by anyone. "Anything else?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head back and forth. "Just remember your training. You'll knock them dead _– literally_." He waited to port out when he noticed she didn't seem anymore relieved at the idea of heading in and slaughtering people. "C'mere, you silly thing," he muttered, pulling her into a hug. "You'll do great, I promise. Just remember you're not a human. You can't be killed. You have the ability to kill anything." She wrapped her arms around his chest and gripped his coat tightly, rubbing her face against the rough wool. "I'll be waiting for you. Call me when you're finished. Good luck," he whispered before kissing her temple and disappearing with a snap. She fell forward as he dissipated, catching herself before smacking into the ground. With a grunt she rose up, steadying herself.

"Thanks for that, _coach_," Addison breathed, angrily, stalking off towards the house.


	9. Chapter 9: Sam & Dean

**AN: The men she encounters in the lawn are a form of rakshasa (from episode 2.02). I know in that episode they were clowns, but they were the only ones that could be invisible, fed on flesh and shapeshifters. My bad if you're a creature freak and like everything to be so-so! I was just trying to find a creature that I thought would fit well. Anyway – the story line is picking up! More action and all that! Yay! Thank you again! - Dee**

**XXXXX**

Addison

**XXXXX**

I pulled myself together, walking towards the house. I knew it had to be cold because the environment around me said it was, but I couldn't feel it. The adrenaline and fear kept me warm. The crunch of the leftover crops sounded noisy in a place where there was no sound. I watched the translucent blanket aura over the house shift slightly, billowing out a bit more from when I first saw it. I had never seen anything like it before, I could only assume it was a protective spell to keep people who wanted to do harm out. I quickly looked around to see if I could spot another house, but there wasn't one for a few miles. The coin bounced on my chest and I haphazardly tucked it into my shirt. The closer I got to the house, the more aware I became of the fact that no one was standing guard outside of the house. A foot away from the barrier, I grabbed a rock from the ground next to me and threw it towards the house. The rock sailed through the air and into the barrier with no problems only a slight buzzing noise as it went across it. I paused and stepped through only to be greeted by nothing. Three steps closer to the house the air around me began to buzz. Four men in trench coats and suits stood before me. Their mouths slipped up into a nearly impossible grin, the tips of the mouth almost reaching their ears. Each one of their eyes turned white with a cat slit in the center. I fought the urge to scream and cry out for Crowley, depending on the blind faith that nothing could kill me.

"I'm not looking for trouble," I started, holding my hands up. Each one of them laughed manically almost like a clown. My brow knotted and I stared confusedly at them. I watched as a knife slowly slipped out of the coat pocket of one in the middle. My eyes followed the sharp curve of it with the light from the moon. I felt my heart leap out of my chest and into the back of my throat. I swallowed past the lump and attempted to calm my face.

"That's what they all say," the one cackled, throwing his head back.

"But I'm actually serious – I don't want to harm anyone. So let's just put the knife down and…" before I could finish one of the men on the end lunged towards me and I jumped out of the way just in enough time. The man fell forward and laughed as a second one came at me, his arms stretched out. I swiped for his arm and gripped it tightly. The smile on his face dropped into a thin small line. I smirked and pulled him above my head, dangling him above me like a piece of meat. I was just about to snap him in half when I heard a low, deep growl. Jumping, I threw the body across the lawn and turned to meet the new sound. A large mauled dog came bustling through the barrier. I stared in shock, taking in the sight of a black, oily coat, stained with bright red blood in areas. Where his eyes should have been there were small bright flames burning. The dog made eye contact with me for a moment and jumped before me. He made a slight huffing noise and nodded his head in the direct of the house. I stood, shocked, not really quite sure what to do. I had never seen anything like it before. The dog huffed again and I shook my head as the four men regrouped and stood in formation, cackling even harder, taunting the both of us.

"I don't understand, are you here to help me?" I asked, staring at the dog curiously. The dog let out a short exhale, almost like a sigh. He growled then barked at the four men and they collapsed to their knees holding their heads from the sound. The dog appeared behind me and shoved his head into my lower back, moving me in the direction of the house. Without trying to waste time I thanked him and rubbed the back of his head. Running towards the house, I found the front door on the side facing east, the pair of doors wide open. I sprinted harder and within a few steps, they slammed in my face. Jiggling the handle out of human habit, I cursed with a smile and kicked my foot into the door. It shattered on impact, splinters of wood sprayed into the house. On the floor sat a trap of some sort that Crowley had showed to me once. The entire doorway was lined with salt. I stepped in, the noise of the salt bits crunching under my shoes. A room sat immediately to the right. I turned the corner barely and was met with a flood of muttered spells. I stared around me curiously as various outlines of ghastly figures flew straight for me, vanishing into a sort of whitish light as they met my skin. I shrugged and entered the room the rest of the way taking in the sight.

"How di- did you get past all of that?" asked an older woman in the corner, her gray hair pulled into an old fashioned bun. "No one has _ever_ made it _this_ far."

"How are you immune to salt and how did you walk through that devil's trap?" voiced another woman near the same age as the other. I scratched my head and turned around.

"What in the hell is a devil's trap?" I asked curiously. Crowley had only told me that it was a spell some people had used to keep unwanted visitors out. I wasn't told the actual name or anything about it. And I didn't know anything about salt at all.

"Oh, don't act like _you don't know!_"

"Why aren't the spirits harming you!" screamed another voice in panicked shock. I stared confusedly at the spirit like apparitions still flying at me. "You're not a human! You're not a demon! _What are you?_"

"Sisters, we must flee at once!"

"Leave every available defense you have! We must leave! We are all risking death by staying!"

"I'm not here to hurt anyone!" I explained again, trying to make it obvious by holding my hands up. "I simply want the Colt."

"Just simply, 'eh?"

"That's right! The Colt! We could use it on her!" screamed a woman who had taken to standing on the couch. I felt the air in my chest get thick and heavy.

"Now… _come on_…" I started, still holding my hands up. "I'm _not_ here to hurt you. Let's not do anything rash."

"_As if you won't hurt us_."

"I _don't_ want to _hurt you_," I snapped, waving off another ghost about to evaporate into light.

"Get the Colt, Anne, we will finally test the theory on a living supernatural creature."

"Excuse me!" I shouted, holding my hands up higher. "I really don't want to hurt you, so please don't make me." A woman from right threw a gallon of water at my face while another came barreling at me with a silver knife. I grabbed the woman by her wrist and snapped it backwards a tad, not meaning to actually break it. The woman screamed out in pain as the bone protruded through her skin. I jumped and out of reaction I pulled her hand back up to try and fix it. A knife entered my right side from behind me. I could feel it, but it didn't actually hurt. Chains were thrown around me and I flexed, snapping the chain to withdraw the knife. There was a vicious flood of activity. I was attacked from every possible direction. I couldn't keep my eye on one particular spot for longer than a few seconds without another weapon being cast at me.

"She doesn't bleed blood!" yelled a woman as she picked up a knife from the ground that I had removed. The knife that had just been in my body was completely clean, there was no blood, no tissue - nothing on it. There was an audible cocking of a gun and I felt my entire body seize up.

"Let's see what happens when this hits your brain," muttered a voice from another entry way to the room, shaking the gun slightly. I started to recall everything through my training. I held my hands up again and whispered, trying to remember every word of the spell Crowley had taught me in case of something like this. Eyeballing the door, I realized there was no way I could get to it safely without having to turn around and compromise being shot in the back. "Sisters, back away from the heathen." I cursed under my breath, closing my eyes as I started to recite the spell. Heat grew out from the center of my stomach and spread down and out of my fingertips. I continued to recite it, fearing that it would stop working if I didn't keep saying it. The woman with the gun threatened me to stop what I was doing, but I knew better. This was now a matter of life and death. The twitching, spasm feeling in my upper back was much more intense than any other time. That pain alone almost made me fall to my knees. Keeping my eyes slammed shut I felt a searing heat explode from the center of my body – it felt like all of the energy I had ever had in my life was now racing around the room and out towards the witches. I screamed out in pain as it continued, the heat was setting my skin on fire. The women around the room cried out and shrieked. My back bucked and arched. I dared opened my eyes for a moment to witness a blinding white light streaming through my body. The entire room was encompassed in the light. For a brief moment I could have sworn I was dying. I felt what I could only describe as my legs stretching for the first time since ever in my back. I floated in air for a while until the light returned itself to me and after the last bit fell into its place, I fell hard down against the floor in the mess of dead bodies.

**XXXXX**

Third person

**XXXXX**

Dean wasn't sure what the hell they were doing out in the middle of Minnesota late at night. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the colt they had been looking for was stashed away in some shitty little town with hardly any security. Sam sat in the black leather passenger seat of the 1967 Impala fumbling over the address he had scribbled out. "You sure about this, Sammy?" Dean asked, cutting the engine and headlights a mile away from the house. Dean looked over at his younger brother with his eyebrow slightly raised. Sam squinted up at the house and exhaled quickly.

"Yeah, I mean, this is the address Bobby gave us," he answered, holding up the post-it as he gestured to the ranch house in the distance. Dean nodded and glanced out of the driver's window.

"You don't find this a little odd? Shouldn't there be big, huge signs of things stopping us? How did we get this close without seeing one ounce of anything strange?" Dean questioned out loud, extremely confused on how they had gotten so close to the house. He expected there to be traps everywhere, but there they were, a mile away from the house with no fight in sight.

"Maybe that's the whole thing, Dean," Sam started. "Maybe this coven thinks they are so far out in the distance that no one will _actually think _it's out _here_."

"Or there's a shit storm in that house with _our names_ written _all over it_," Dean corrected, shoving his keys into his brown leather jacket as he stepped out of the car. Sam sat for a moment before joining him, his mouth in a grim line. He exited slowly, following his brother to the trunk of the car. Dean's eyes remained fixated on the house, tapping the lid of the trunk. Sam stole a glance at what he was focusing on and turned back around.

"Something wrong?"

"Nah," Dean answered, popping the lid open. "Just wondering what we're gonna need in there." Sam shrugged. "These are just regular run of the mill human witches, right?" Dean asked, turning to face Sam while he propped the lid open with a spare piece of wood that always stayed in the trunk.

"According to Bobby…" Dean quickly unlocked the combination lock guarding their weapons and opened that compartment as well.

"We should take a variety – just to be sure," Dean warned, handing Sam a silver knife, along with a bronze one. "You still have your gun?"

"Yes, Dean," Sam answered.

"Good." Dean tucked a spare gun into his back waistband beside his .45 with the ivory grip. Sam picked up a flask of holy water and a few boxes of matches and placed them into the inside pocket of his khaki jacket. After a moment, Dean paused and reached down to grab a shotgun and a few rounds. "No harm in being over-prepared, right?" he asked with a short laugh, he smiled at his younger brother, trying to lighten the mood, but Sam wasn't into it. When he realized he wasn't going to get a reaction, his smile fell and he shrugged. "Ready?" Sam gave a stern nod and they both approached the house.

The closer they got, the more Dean became uneasy. He gripped the shotgun tighter, glancing behind them to check on his baby. The wild howl of a hellhound echoed in the distance and Dean caught himself becoming even more uneasy. The flashback of hell fought to the front of his mind. "Maybe we should go back to the car," Sam started, stopping in the middle of the frozen over field.

"No," Dean insisted. "I want that damn colt."

"Is it worth all of this though, Dean? Who knows what's in there waiting for us?" A bright white light emanated from the windows of the house, shattering the glass. Dean and Sam paused, watching carefully. There was a shrill piercing sound that grew louder as the light increased in intensity. The brothers hunched over, their hands instinctively covering their ears. "What is that?" Sam shouted over the noise.

"Enochian," Dean grunted back, squinting up at the house. All at once the noise and light disappeared. "You alright?" he asked, checking on Sam. Sam rose up slowly, removing his hands from his head.

"I think so, yeah."

"Good, we better get moving, especially if there's an angel in there." The men both ran for the house this time, Dean holding the gun at an angle before him. "Too bad all of this is useless if there is," he added motioning to the shotgun.

"Yeah, but what would an angel want with a colt when they could just kill anything?" Dean shrugged. They ran for a couple of minutes until reaching the house. Dean's arm went out, stopping Sam. He pointed silently to the four dead mauled bodies in the yard. They exchanged a look and entered the house cautiously. Dean bent down and picked up a piece of the shattered door before handing it to Sam. Around the corner, Dean stopped in tracks, staring at the twenty or so bodies in the room. Sam followed to see what had his brother so preoccupied, his mouth fell open at the sight. "Angel?"

"Definitely," Dean answered after a minute. His green eyes scanned each woman, stopping when he found a young girl in the middle, her tight pink leggings giving her away. There were two large rips in the back of her black hoodie length wise, about a foot long. It appeared as though the rip went all the way down to her skin, but he couldn't see any blood. "Sammy," Dean whispered, nodding to her. "That look like your run of the mill witch?" Sam's head shook back and forth. The pair approached the girl, being mindful of the bodies littering the ground. Dean sat the shotgun down beside him and reached out to touch her when she groaned.

"Help me," she whispered, raising just enough to bring her shoulders off of the ground. "_Please_…"

"Sammy, I need your help," Dean grunted, lifting the girl up as he sat down at the same time. "Go get the Impala." After he had successfully pulled the girl into his lap he tossed the keys at Sam. "Make it quick." Sam stared at his older brother and raised his eyebrow as if he was going to question him. "Don't ask, just go!" he shouted, waving him off.

"There were so many of them…" she whispered again, her eyes closed. He took in the sight of the room again, baffled as to how she got there and what she was talking about. He feared angels had showed up to exorcise the room, but somehow managed to forget one, but that was completely unfeasible. Angels didn't miss things like that.

"The colt – do you know where the colt is?" Dean asked. She didn't respond until Dean lightly squeezed her hand.

"The colt is with the woman near the kitchen door over there."

"Are you hurt?"

"N-n-no, just very tired," she mumbled, nuzzling her face against his jacket. Dean eyeballed the colt laying on the floor a few feet away, the metal glinting as the Impala's headlights flashed over it. A smirk rose on the corner of his lips.


	10. Chapter 10: Gabriel & Castiel

_**AN: Here we go! Sorry it's been so long! Been so busy with school... Anyway. No edits. Really rough skim/read through. Might be a few errors. Enjoy! and thank you! - Dee**_

_**XXXXX**_

_**[TIMELINE CONTINUED FROM LAST CHAPTER]**_

Dean turned up the music in the Impala as they drove West on I-90, headed for Sioux Falls. Sam stared out of the window as he drove, his brow marked with worry. He peered behind him into the backseat to look at their new passenger. She was passed out, facing the back of the seat, a worn red fleece blanket tossed over her. Sam turned back around and paused on his brother, watching as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel, mouthing the lyrics to Poison. "What Sammy?" Dean asked, reaching over to turn down the music. He shook his head silently to the question and returned to staring out of the window. "What?" Dean repeated a little more sternly.

"Do you _really_ think this is a good idea?" Sam asked. "Taking an unconscious girl who may or _may not_ be supernatural and _dragging _her off to Bobby's? She could wake up at any minute! We have no idea who or what she is!"

"And why exactly do you think I'm taking her to Bobby's then?"

"I just don't like this," Sam added, his jaw tense.

"And you think _I_ feel confident about it?" He waited for him to say something, but when he didn't, he continued. "Look, Sam. She was in that house for a reason. And I don't think it was her doing. Does she _look_ like a hunter to you?" Sam shook his head. "Does she look like a weird, crazy - _anything_ that we usually see in places like _that?_" Dean asked, taking his eyes off of the road to look at his brother. Sam shook his head again. "That's what I wanna know. Why she was there and who sent her there. And the safest place for getting questions like that answered is - ?"

"The panic room," he answered, halfway rolling his eyes.

"Yup!" He smiled a bit at Sam. "Exactly and nothing is going to –" With a fluttering noise Gabriel appeared between the brothers, a fried chicken leg in his right hand, a bowl of caramel corn on his lap. Dean screamed, the Impala swerving out of its lane. "_Sonofabitch_," he shouted, scooting away from the angel into the door.

**XXXXX**

Crowley

**XXXXX**

I clutched the gold coin in my hand tightly, squeezing my eyes shut, praying the coin would start working again. My foot tapped wildly on the linoleum floor of the "nerve center" that Lannister had created near the gates of hell in Wisconsin. "How long's it been, Lannister?" I asked, trying not to let the wildness of imagination get to me. There could have been a hundred reasons the coin stopped working.

"An hour, sir."

"An hour?!" I screamed, turning to face the clock. "Get someone out there, Lannister!"

"We can't, sir," Lannister answered calmly. "We don't know what happened out there. Anyone could be watching that house now. We send one of ours out there we risk being found. And we can't have that, sir." I gritted my teeth and turned back around to face the window looking out into the cemetery.

"What else can we do?"

"Wait."

"Fuck waiting," I mumbled, cursing myself as I retrieved the necessary ingredients for a summoning. I couldn't believe I was stooping this low. I couldn't believe I was going to call on _him _to help me. That arrogant, snappy, flying monkey.

"What are you doing, sir?" Lannister asked cautiously, keeping his distance.

"Summoning Gabriel," I snapped. I had no other choice. I couldn't risk anyone knowing about the relationship I had with Addison. No one else could know about her either. The average hunter or demon had too much sense to know that I wouldn't care about the abduction of some college-age human. They would want to know the catch – they would want to know why I was worried about her safety. Demons and humans were alike in that fact – always wanting to know a cause – even if there wasn't one.

"Sir, is that wise?"

"No!" I barked, slamming a wooden bowl onto a countertop. "But what other choice do I have?"

"None, sir."

"Then do us a favor, eh?" Lannister's head tilted a bit to the side. "Shut the fuck up!" I screamed, drawing symbols on the floor. Lannister pursed his lips and looked away slowly. After a snap of my fingers, a fire erupted in the middle of the sigil. Gabriel's wings made a faint fluttering smile and he landed a few feet away. He stared at me with a small smirk.

"What did you manage to screw up this time, guard dog?" Gabriel snipped, unwrapping a candy bar that was stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. "Because by my being here," he peered at the clock on the wall behind Lannister, "I'm missing on wild and crazy sex. It's penciled into my schedule for right now."

"Addison's missing," I told him, getting straight to the point. I didn't want the flying monkey in my home any longer than necessary.

"How? And why?" Gabriel asked, his smirk falling. He stopped mid-chew and stuffed the rest of the candy into the same pocket. "I thought you were watching her."

"I was and still am. She got away from us."

"_That's brilliant_," he quipped. "I thought that you would prove my theory of demons only being selfish bastards wrong – especially after she's survived the last nineteen – almost twenty years that she's been alive. I can see I was wrong." I fought back the intense, rich urge to send him away, handle it all on my own, regardless of whether it broke my plan or not. "Where was she last?"

"Blue Earth, Minnesota."

"What in the name of – " he paused. "What was she doing _out there_?"

"We have the address," I answered, cutting him off. His golden eyes bore into mine. I slowly held out a piece of paper to him, matching the intensity of his stare.

"If I found out this has anything to do with you – you'd better pray I don't find you," Gabriel snapped, ripping the paper from my hand. He peered down and tossed the paper aside. "How long has she been missing?"

"Close to two hours."

"And you've just been in here, sitting on your pompous ass, afraid of ruining your reputation by going after her? That's all this about, _isn't it_?" I chewed on the inside of my cheek and looked down briefly. The guilt tasted hard and cold. I couldn't bear the thought of someone capturing her and torturing her for answers. Gabriel was right, but regardless, I still hated him and still didn't regret my decision. I couldn't throw years of work away because she was missing for two hours. "Let's pray Zachariah doesn't have her and that we don't meet again for a _long_ time." He flew away instantly and I was beside myself. Gabriel would attempt to return her to her parents where angels and God only knew what else awaited them. Served his cocky ass right, but not Addison's.

"Oh, shut up!" I shouted, slamming my hand down on a nearby wooden table. "You're not going after her!" Gabriel could easily spot the angels from a mile away. He would be fine.

**XXXXX**

Narrative

**XXXXX**

The second Gabriel's feet touched the ground outside of the house, he could feel it. He could feel the residual explosion from grace sitting in the air. It was refreshing, pure, and untamed – nothing but innocence. He felt something else though, as well. He waved his hand to rewind time. Gabriel stood in awe as he watched the Winchester's Impala appear at the door. He grumbled under his breath as Dean carried Addison out to the car, her _wings _dragging the ground. He looked up and stared at the deep black sky above him and closed his eyes. "No," was all he could simply say, multiple times in a row. He didn't wait for anything else to happen. The minute he saw her wings, he was falling into the front bench seat of the Impala, right between Sam and Dean.

"_Sonofabitch_,"Dean shouted, scooting away from the angel into the door. Sam stared at the angel with horror and surprise.

"_Please_," groaned Gabriel, taking a large bite out of his chicken wing. "What is it with you _Winchesters_? Why is it _always_ you two?" Dean laid into his horn at a passing car who had taken the time to roll down his window and shout out a few profanities. "I mean everywhere! Do you two just ever get tired of trouble?"

"Excuse me?" barked Dean, eyeballing the archangel.

"You two – you know – the constant battles. Always fighting even if it's with each other. For a couple of little humans who don't want to fight in the apocalypse, you sure pick enough fights to equal it." Gabriel waved his hand at the both of them and popped a large handful of popcorn into his mouth. Dean and Sam met eyes over Gabriel's head, confusion translating from each of them. "Do you purposely look for it? I mean do you just stumble into this shit on purpose? I honestly think you do."

"Are you trying to us something, Gabriel?" Sam questioned, adjusting as Gabriel turned to smile at a still sleeping Addison, her wings tucked neatly behind her. His smile fell when her energy touched his, when he briefly remembered that seeing her wings wasn't a good thing.

"Oh no," he whispered, his golden eyes enlarging. She would wake up soon if she continued to recharge like that. "Where are you boys headed?"

"Why do you care?" Dean snapped back defensively.

"Tell me or I'll drain it out of you. Your choice." Dean saw the flash in Gabriel's eyes and swallowed the counter he had ready.

"Bobby's."

"Hope you're all wearing your seatbelts," Gabriel warned. He placed his hands firmly on the bench seat after thrusting the bowl of popcorn and chicken leg into Sam's lap. Sam fumbled for a minute, grasping the bowl before the contents spilled. A few pieces hit the floor and Dean scowled.

"Hope you plan on grace vacuuming my car later," Dean quipped.

"We've got quite a bit more to worry about than your floor board, pretty boy."

"Okay guys, _seriously_," Sam chimed in, staring at the both of them. The car became weightless, drifting through a warp tunnel before stopping in Bobby's driveway. Dean and Sam sat speechless. The engine cut and Dean's jaw tightened.

"Safe and fast," Gabriel laughed. "I'll get her inside." He turned to touch Addison and Dean caught his shoulder.

"Don't you ever touch my baby like that again," Dean warned.

"Is he always this whiny?" Gabriel asked Sam before taking Addison inside. Sam smirked at his older brother as the angel disappeared. Bobby cursed as he spilled a fresh cup of coffee all over his desk, the sight of Gabriel and an unconscious woman startling him.

"Balls!" he shouted, tipping the mug upright even if it was too late. Gabriel smiled and fixed the mess, returning the coffee to the mug. "How'd you get in here and _who the hell _is _that_? This ain't a damn cemetery, even though _everyone _thinks it damn well _is_! This is an _auto_ salvage yard!"

"She's not dead," Gabriel held her so Bobby could see her face. His jaw dropped. "Met her before?" Bobby nodded speechlessly. "Could I commandeer your panic room?" He nodded, walking towards the basement. He knew the angel was more than capable of teleporting her downstairs, but he opened the door and allowed Gabriel to walk down. He helped situate her in the cot in the center of the large circular room and covered her with a blanket when Sam, Dean, and Castiel appeared at the doorway of the room.

"Was it necessary for you to call your boyfriend?" Gabriel taunted Dean, leaning against the wall.

"I prefer an even playing field when something doesn't smell right," Dean replied, staring at Cas.

"I need to speak to him. _Alone_," Gabriel ordered.

"Would you idjits get upstairs and let the girl rest? She doesn't need to hear you four bickerin' about hell only knows what," Bobby snapped, pointing upstairs. The four men gawked at each other. Without a word Gabriel dropped them upstairs.

"Whatever you need to say, you can say it before the Winchesters," Cas insisted, holding his eyes on his reckless older brother.

"Castiel, this is important," Gabriel stressed. He waved a hand over a window and sigils sprawled out in each direction, covering every window in Bobby's house.

"I'm listening." Gabriel sighed loudly.

"Fine. If you insist on talking before these two, you need to turn off angel radio for a moment." Cas nodded and followed the order. "That girl down there is a _nephilim_." The younger angel's blue eyes lit up.

"Impossible," he shot back almost immediately.

"No, just a well-kept secret."

"All of the breeding mothers were executed."

"As far as you knew, yes."

"This is great news," Castiel chirped, a broad and rare smile creeping up on his lips. The war in heaven would soon end, the apocalypse would never happen, it would be alright – finally. "We should warn the brothers." Gabriel cried out and stopped him before he tried to fly away.

"No, brother."

"Why?" Dean asked. "You still have a beef with your feathered bird brains up there?" He gestured to the sky.

"You've met Zachariah, right, Dean?"

"Yeah."

"He seem like a _real good hearted guy_ to you?"

"No," Dean scoffed. "He was a dick."

"Yeah, and on top of that, he was the one who supported the deaths on the nephilim's heads in the first place," Gabriel added. The innocent light in Castiel's eyes faded.

"Aren't nephilim half angel and half human?" Sam asked curiously.

"Yes," Gabriel replied.

"So why are they wanted?" Dean asked.

"You already know how Zachariah feels about humans. Imagine entire garrisons with that attitude. The idea of an angel and a human made them sick. God made nephilim special. They were the future rulers of heaven, the new peacekeepers – "

"Damn," Sam muttered, putting the pieces together.

"Most were killed off before they were even born. It was the only way they knew how to stop them at the time. To stop one in full form – " Gabriel whistled. "Damn near impossible. You need almost fifty angels to kill just one."

"So where's she been?" Sam asked, settling into the couch.

"Hidden away and watched over meticulously."

"Yeah, but why now? Why is she compromised now? Because that's why you're here, right? She was alone, passed out and now we have her. Not exactly being watched over…" Dean started.

"I'm still trying to figure that all out myself. She wasn't in this state when I saw her a few months ago. Something set her grace off – it brought her to full nephilim – wings and all. She was never supposed to do that."

"And why not?" Dean questioned, still not completely trusting everything the angel had to say.

"Her mother's wishes. She didn't want Addison raised like this. That girl has a hard life ahead of her. Most magic and Enochian - she'll have to learn now. It won't be instinct. It's like trying to learn Spanish as an adult." Dean balked. "She's lived so long as a human with hardly any grace, I don't see this ending well for her without help." The men took a moment to let the entirety of the situation sink in.

"I need a beer," Dean muttered, walking towards the kitchen.

"Me too," Sam added, trailing behind. The brothers sat with Bobby in the kitchen, explaining the story to them as the angels talked privately in the living room.

"I should have known," Bobby cursed. The Winchesters stared at him confusedly.

"How would you have known what she was, Bobby?"

"That damn ritual, remember? Voodoo lady and her hands – on assistant?"

"Light Girl?" Dean spoke, his eyebrows raised in shock. Bobby nodded slowly, fiddling with the beer bottle cap in his hands.

"That's impossible, Bobby," Sam continued. "You couldn't have known what she was. The nephilim were never supposed to exist."

"Yeah, but that don't mean there ain't lore about them either, boy."

"What kind of lore?" Dean asked, hunching over the table farther.

"Nephilim were supposed to finish out the apocalypse, destroy demons and be our protectors. They were going to put angels in their place – "

"I'm afraid there's more to it than that," Castiel interrupted, stepping beside the table.

"Like what?" questioned Dean, rising from his chair. Cas sighed and looked away, uncomfortably. Gabriel had left shortly after speaking with Castiel, to look more into the mystery of Addison's condition.

"Dean," Castiel began, "Sam." He looked at each of the men carefully. Sam rose to stand with Dean. "It is no coincidence that Addison was found by you two. You three are all involved in the apocalypse. You're also bound by blood." The brothers turned and made eye contact, squinting.

"Are you saying John had another love child?" Bobby squawked, thinking it out in his head. Castiel smirked and shook his head.

"Possibly."

"What in the hell does possibly mean, Cas?" Dean asked, sternly, folding his arms over his chest.

"The exact linage isn't for certain. Teodora never recorded or made a note as to who the father was, but the lore and prophecy says that the last standing nephilim would be of relation to the true vessels – which is you two."

"Who is Teodora?"

"Addison's mother."

"So, that girl down there could be our sister?"

"Or cousin, yes. Cousin is the correct term?"

"Yes," Sam answered, crossing his arms to mirror his brother before rubbing his face. Dean made a face of uncertainty and bit down on his lower lip.

"What do we do about this, Sammy?" Dean asked, turning around slowly. Sam dropped his arms, rubbing his face again wearily. It was nearing two in the morning and he hadn't slept well the night before. He was exhausted.

"This is a lot for two in the morning, Dean."

"That might be our little sister down there, Sammy."

"Might."

"No difference. Blood is blood. If she's a Winchester, she's a Winchester. She – is a – Winchester, right, Cas?"

"Yes, no relation to your mother's side, strictly Winchester." Dean smiled and nodded. Sam sighed.

"You take first shift with Bobby. I need to sleep," he stated, slapping Dean's back.

"First shift?" Dean asked confusedly.

"Yup," Sam shouted, walking into the living room to snuggle down on the old worn out couch against the wall. "Someone's gotta be awake with her. She's not gonna be in the best state of mind when she wakes up if she just underwent the change last night. Probably wouldn't be a bad idea if Cas stayed too to help since Gabriel left."

"It would be my honor," Castiel chirped about to grab Dean's shoulder to flutter downstairs. Dean stopped him and held up his hands.

"We can walk, Cas," Dean stated. "It's not that far." Castiel tried to fight the smile spreading across his face but couldn't stop it.

"Yes…" Bobby shook his head as the pair left the room and headed into the basement.


	11. Chapter 11: The Reveal

**AN: Hello lovelies! Took a bit of time for myself to write this chapter. It's a bit long, but it's all worth it! Thank you for all of the reviews and follows/favorites! I know it took a while to get to this point, but here we are, we're going to start building to the big story now! Thank you guys so much! I wrote this after having been up for a long time so you will have to pardon any errors, but here we are – Dee xo**

[TIMELINE CONTINUED FROM LAST CHAPTER]

Gabriel flew to the Mielke house, landing outside in the street, cloaked. He stared at the house and instantly knew something didn't feel right. He felt Zachariah before he saw him - his younger brother appearing at his right side. "Gabriel, what are you doing here?" Zachariah asked, facing him, his blue eyes trained. He was smug, his lips pulled into their usual constant smirk.

"You already know. So tell me, is there a point in asking?" he countered, turning ever so slightly. Zachariah grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Perhaps not, but what do you care about the nephilim? You've been out doing '_your own thing_' for centuries now…"

"Leave these people alone, Zachariah," Gabriel warned. "She isn't coming back here."

"And how do you know that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side, his face now more serious.

"I am much older than you, _brother_. Mind your place." Zachariah scoffed.

"You are not my brother. You see these humans as equals. You're even protecting the one that could bring down heaven, the one that could destroy all of us. No brother of mine would think that way."

"I think you're doing quite a fine job of that yourself." The lesser angel's lip snarled. "And whether you like it or not – we're brothers. Now. You already know I'm older than you –" he procured a glass of wine and took a long drink "-and more attractive, and smarter, and funnier, and – let's face it-" he gestured to Zachariah. "Pretty much better than you in every way. You should reconsider any plans you have to harm me or imprison me."

"I _do not_ fear _you_."

"And yet, you probably should," Gabriel added, tossing the empty wine glass behind him. "I wasn't named just for my good looks." His eyebrow raised slowly and Zachariah's brow dropped.

"Are you _threatening me_?" Gabriel shrugged. "Do you even _know_ how many men I have inside?" Gabriel's head fell back slightly and he shut his eyes.

"Four? Maybe five? _Ohh_, _that's really tough_, Zachariah," Gabriel taunted opening his eyes.

"Look here you little weasel, you ma –" There was a quite whoosh sound and Gabriel dropped his vessel, exposing his true form to Zachariah. The bright blue light was blinding, Zachariah blinked a few times as the angel exposed his wings, slowly drawing them out. His true form was at least seven feet fall, his wings reaching the span of at least twenty to twenty five feet behind him. His younger brother fell backwards slightly, mouth agape.

"Leave. Now," Gabriel commanded, pointing to the heavens. Fumbling, Zachariah flew inside and gathered his men, leaving quickly. Gabriel waited until he felt the angels were out of the house before returning to his vessel. He shrugged and stretched out his black leather jacket, rolling his neck as he walked towards the house, now visible to humans. Calmly, he opened the door and stepped inside, still partially expecting an ambush. He knew his younger brother was deceiving enough to have done so. He waved a quick hand over the window and cast out multiple sigils, invisible to human eyes. He found Jack and Michael lying face down on the floor in the kitchen, still halfway breathing. He placed a hand on both of them and replenished them. Michael sat up first, rubbing his bald head slowly. Jack sat up shortly after, reaching over to grab his husband's hand.

"What happened?" Michael asked, staring at Gabriel.

"Depends on what you remember," Gabriel answered, crouching down before them.

"Where is Addison?" Jack asked, panicking as he glanced around the kitchen.

"She's safe," Gabriel told him calmly. "The men who possessed you were looking for her, she is well hidden now." Jack wiped a few stray tears away from his cheek.

"Those men – they – they wanted to kill her," he whispered. Michael wrapped his arms around Jack protectively and kissed his forehead.

"Where is she?" Michael asked, more firmly, looking pointedly at Gabriel. "How do I even know I can trust you?"

"You can," Gabriel answered. "Then again, I know how you humans are and it doesn't quite matter whether I say it or not. Seeing as I just banished the angels from your house that were possessing you and torturing you – that should be a start."

"She is safe though?" Jack muttered, turning to the angel.

"Yes. Very much so. Safest place she can be."

"Can we see her?"

"That, I can't let you do. She had a bit of a breakthrough tonight. I'm trying to figure that out."

"A breakthrough how? What do you mean?" Michael questioned, standing up slowly, assisting Jack to a standing position also.

"Well, I think you already know that, judging by what you've heard already." Gabriel had looked back into the past and watched the Mielkes enter Bobby's house. He watched the entire séance, he was closer to how this whole path started, and he was quickly nearing the source of why she became fully engaged.

"The gift of God?"

"More than that."

"What could be more than that?" Jack asked, carefully. Gabriel sighed and leaned against the countertop.

"Look. I know this whole supernatural business is new to the both of you. I don't even know how much you remember right now, but your daughter is very special. She is a nephilim. She's half angel and half human. Her mother didn't leave her here with you, her – well – we'll just call him her godfather – left her here because he thought you would take good care of her. Which you have. Tonight, her grace was released – the part that makes her an angel – and she's in a lot of danger now. A lot of angels don't like the idea of a half angel and human running around."

"Why not?"

"She's going to stop the apocalypse – "

"Now, just hold a damn minute – " Jack started, holding his hand up. "What?!"

"Kill Lucifer and end the disrepair in heaven." Jack laughed loudly.

"That's just – that's _our_ little girl! She's only twenty! You can't expect anything of her like that! You can't just expect her to kill Lucifer and expect all of this from her!"

"It's her duty," Gabriel stated. "It's her role in this universe. This was the reason for her creation."

"She's only twenty years old!" shouted Jack. "She's got a birthday tomorrow!"

"With grace, she'll never age. She might have a birthday, but it's only a day. After about the four hundred and fiftieth one, it kind of takes the excitement out of it."

"You're absurd! My daughter is fine! She's _NORMAL_," Jack screamed, his fists balled. "Bring her back to me_, IMMEDIATELY_. I _COMMAND_ YOU." Tears fell from his face in steady streams. Michael patted his back, trying to calm him, but it was unsuccessful. "And you!" he turned and pointed at his husband. "Why aren't you saying anything? Don't you care!?"

"I do care, honey –"

"Then fight! Say something! Why are you so quiet!?"

"Because I have faith," Michael answered slowly. Jack screamed, pushing Michael away from him as he stormed out of the kitchen. "He just needs to – " Michael ran a hand down his face and looked at the ground. "I trust you," he added after a minute, staring long and hard at the angel. "I don't know why, but I do. Thank you for saving us. Just bring my baby back home to me safe and in one piece, alright?" Michael asked. "That's all I ask." Gabriel bowed his head. Michael nodded his head slowly and left the kitchen quietly.

**XXXXX**

Castiel and Dean sat side by side in the basement just outside of the panic room. Dean cradled a beer in his right hand, his legs propped up on an old wooden crate tipped onto its side. Castiel was rigid, his posture very precise in the fold up chair Dean had given him. "So - you sure about all of this?" Dean asked, taking a small swig of beer.

"Sure about what, Dean?" Castiel asked, his eyes never leaving Addison.

"About her, you know, do you think she's the key to stopping the apocalypse? What does this mean for Sam and I?"

"I don't know."

"Figures," Dean muttered, ripping off the label of his beer slowly with his thumbnail.

"She is thought to be very powerful."

"Not according to Gabriel," Dean grumbled, balling the label up with his hand.

"With training she will be invincible."

"And who said she wanted this life? Why are you two planning out her life for her? As her older brother, I think she would want me to step in and stand up for her right now in her condition."

"You know nothin' about that girl in there, boy. Who says she wants you to interfere at all?" Bobby interjected, stepping up to the pair. Dean balked. "She's lived two decades without you. Who says she needs you at all?"

"I'm her big brother," Dean stated, not really sure what other argument he could come up with.

"And who says she'll accept that? Now look. I know you're all about family and protecting your younger siblings. I know you cared about Adam and now you've got this new little ball of sibling responsibility, but who says she'll accept you, Dean?" Dean sunk down into the chair and took another drink. "I'm not trying to be an ass about this, I'm trying to be realistic, alright? You know nothing about her and she knows nothing about you or Sam."

"I know what you mean, Bobby," Dean replied after a long minute. "I just feel like they always want too much from our family. And I don't know why."

"No one will probably ever know, boy," Bobby mumbled, patting Dean's shoulder. They sat outside of the panic room like that for a few hours, talking about the latest basketball game or the craziest hunt that was circulating around the hunter circle. It was nearing five in the morning and Dean was slowly beginning to realize how long he had been awake. Castiel hadn't moved from his spot and Bobby had taken a cot stashed away in the corner of the basement to sleep on. Dean was considering the idea of asking Castiel to wake him up if Addison moved, until he heard the whimper. He shot upright and all ounce of sleepiness vanished.

"Cas, did you hear that?" Dean asked cautiously, peering into the panic room.

"She's waking," Castiel answered calmly. Dean ruffled his short hair and exhaled forcefully.

"What do we do?"

"I'm not exactly sure." Dean rolled his eyes at the angel and walked into the panic room, dropping to her side. He placed hands on either side of her face, his thumbs rubbing against her skin gently.

"Addison, it's Dean. You're safe," he spoke as her arms and legs began to twitch and move. "You're safe," he repeated, brushing hair away from her face. "Addison, it's okay to wake up. It's okay." Castiel stepped in behind Dean and watched carefully. She moaned loudly and her back arched off of the cot. "What's happening?" Dean asked, looking up Castiel.

"She's undergoing the last transformation."

"What in the hell does that mean!?" Dean shouted, watching the body of his younger sister buck wildly.

"The grace is fusing with her human soul," Castiel spoke, placing a hand on her ankle. "I can numb pain of the process, if you'd like."

"Why are you even asking me that?! Do it, Cas!" Castiel closed his eyes and allowed his grace to numb her body. She stopped bucking and her eyes jerked open. Dean fell backwards as Addison sat upright.

"Water," she whimpered, holding her throat.

"It's okay," Castiel whispered, calmly, sitting by her feet. "It's just a feeling." He patted her leg gently. "It will subside, just close your eyes and feel the peace." Addison did as she was told. "Breathe in and out slowly." Her chest rose and fell silently. "Feel the peace."

"Castiel?" she asked after a moment, her eyes still closed.

"Yes." She smiled and her eyes opened.

"And Dean," she added, turning head to him. "It's so good to meet you, big brother." She rose from the bed and pulled him up into a large hug. He wrapped his arms around her with the same intensity, his face relaxing when she held onto him.

**XXXXX**

Addison

**XXXXX**

I felt another wave of pain coming and bucked, almost dragging Dean down to the floor with me.

"What's happening, Cas?" Dean shouted as I pulled him by his shirt, using his body as a crane to lay back down on the bed. Castiel's eyes darted around the room.

"It's the sigils in this room, they are diminishing her, she needs to be in the basement," he answered, looking up at the ceiling, which only appeared to be a fan.

"Alright, we're getting out of this room," Dean grunted, scooping me up into his arms, rushing me out to a pair of folding chairs. The weight seemed to pull off of my chest immediately.

"Thank you," I muttered, rubbing a hand over my chest. I quickly pulled off the hoodie and slumped against the chair. I was coated with sweat. My back twitched and I felt a release in my body, it was as if I had been cramped up in a tiny car for hours and was finally able to stretch my legs.

"Anytime," Dean replied, nodding with a smile.

"For earlier too," I breathed, "not just right now." I sat upright slowly and rolled my head, the new sensation in my back caused goosebumps to form up and down my body. Castiel took a seat next to me, he raised his fingers and I flinched away. "Excuse me, can I help you?" I asked, carefully, moving his fingers away. Castiel smiled, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Forgive me, I was going to inspect you."

"You can't do that with your eyes?" I fumbled with the gold coin around my neck, it was sticking to my skin from the sweat. There was a tight knotted feeling in my back and I stretched, trying to calm it. "Damn," I whispered, drawing a hand backwards to massage the area. My heart stopped when I felt feathers on my fingertips. "What is wrong with me? What's on my back?" I asked, panicking, as they fluttered. I bolted into the panic room where I was sure I had seen a mirror and screamed when I saw the silver-gray colored wings stretching out behind me. "What happened to me?" I screamed, my wings grew rigid and arched into what I assumed was attack mode.

"I'm going to call for Gabriel," Castiel stated calmly.

"Hurry, Cas," Dean mumbled, standing still in the doorway. "I know you're a little confused," Dean spoke, now to me. "But, I promise you – you're safe."

"Addy –" Gabriel spoke slowly, stepping into the panic room cautiously.

"How is she immune to the anti-angel sigil crap? How is she using her wings? I thought that wasn't allowed in there – only lesser powers…" Dean spoke, trying to whisper.

"I can hear you – you know?" I taunted. I felt a rush of horror. There was no way I should have been able to hear him. He was speaking directly into Castiel's ear. "How did I hear you?" I asked loudly.

"Give me a minute to explain," Gabriel started.

"What is wrong with me? What's happening?"

"You're fine, Addison. You are just fine. Calm down."

"I _am_ calm," I quipped pointedly. I sat down on cot, holding my head in my hands. My wings relaxed behind me, falling against my back.

"Okay, what do you remember last?" Dean called out, sitting in the fold up chair.

"You taking me to a car…"

"And before that?" I rubbed my head, scrunching my eyes closed. "It's all black," I whispered, shamefully.

"That's natural," Gabriel stated. "Do you mind stepping out here? If I touch you I can make your thoughts return." I chewed on the inside of my cheek and stared up at him. He extended a hand to me and smiled warmly.

"Where'd you get that gold coin from around your neck?" asked Dean, standing up. I brushed a hand over it again and shrugged. "Can I see it? It might help." He walked into the room and approached me, slowly, almost as if he was approaching a wild animal, each movement slow and precise. I handed the necklace to him hesitantly. I finally knew what the man in the Bourne series felt like. "Thank you." He smiled at me, about to turn away.

"Will they hurt me? I'm asking 'cause I trust you – if what Castiel showed me a glimpse of – if you are my big brother, I think of who else to trust," I told Dean, honestly.

"No, those two are safe. I promise." Gabriel retreated to the folding chairs with Castiel, keeping a watchful eye on me. "Here," Dean stated, holding a hand out to me. "I'll even let them do it to me, too." My eyes widened and I stared at him carefully, trying to read his aura, find out his intentions. It was a mix of yellow and dark, deep blue. Almost like a night sky, vast and protective – the watchful eyes while you slept – the caring hug while you drifted off into your dreams.

"And they won't hurt us?"

"Nah, I mean you might poop weird for a week, but you'll be solid other than that." I cracked a smile and he slowly returned it. "Come on." He wiggled his fingers and I took his hand. The angels moved away from the chairs and allowed us to sit. Gabriel placed his hand gently over my forehead while Castiel did the same to Dean. I felt a jolt and within seconds, I could remember everything.

"My parents!" I squeaked, rising from my chair. "Oh my god!" I shouted.

"They're fine," Gabriel started, placing a hand on either side of my face. "I've made sure of it."

"What the fuck am I? Really!? Some sort of weird bird – human half breed freak?"

"You're half angel," Dean corrected, with a pointed look that appeared to have a deeper meaning, but I couldn't place it.

"What?" I gasped.

"Could I show you?" Castiel asked. I took a moment and stared at his hand. "It works faster."

"I guess – " I shrugged – I could feel my wings behind me make the same motion. Castiel gingerly pressed his fingers to my forehead. All of Castiel's knowledge about the current situation flooded through me. I opened my eyes again, looking between the three men before me. I feel back against the chair again, my wings relaxing, the tips dragging the floor.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"You're – my –" I pointed at him as I spoke. "But I have _another one_?"

"Sammy's upstairs. He needed his beauty rest. You have another brother, too, but he's in the pit." Dean smiled warmly and I looked away, back to Gabriel.

"Is it true everyone wants me dead?"

"No," he answered, crouching down beside me. "Not everyone. There are plenty of people who want to see you live."

"What am I supposed to do? What's my purpose? Am I really the person who's supposed to end the apocalypse and _kill_ Satan? How do you even kill Satan? _Can you do that_? I mean angels and demons are _real_ and _I'm one_. Why am I part angel? Why am I even – I'm only twenty!"

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in. Believe me – I know," Dean quipped. "But you're _not alone_. We're gonna find a way to get out of this. We're gonna find a way to end it _together. I promise_. I know you don't know me – or Sam – but I swear to you – _we will be there for you_." I smiled at him and watched him fiddle with the gold coin necklace. Gabriel snatched it from his hand, a low growl came from his throat.

"You are never to speak to Crowley again," Gabriel ordered, crushing the coin.

"Whoa – "Dean began, holding his hands up. "Crowley – Crowley? Crowley, self-proclaimed King of Hell Crowley?"

"That very one," Gabriel replied.

"What's so bad about Crowley? He _saved_ my life," I countered.

"Crowley is a demon. How can you not know that?" Dean snapped back haughtily.

"It's funny you're using demonic tendency as your only defense for how bad he is, when I've seen how _sweet and generous angels are_, Dean." Dean opened and closed his mouth before smirking.

"I'll give you that, little sis, but –" I rolled my eyes.

"We don't know what he wants with you," Gabriel finished.

"Are you seriously kidding me? He was training me to defend myself. Angels tried attacking me and my family one night and he protected us."

"Oh, did he really? Because I just finished cleaning out six angels from your family home about twenty minutes ago, any explanation for that?"

"If you're all so quick to judge – where were you when I needed you, huh? Where were you when I was hauled up in my room – alone, crying, wondering why I was different or out – afraid for my life at college? Where were you!? _Because he was there._ _Not you!_ Mind were you're casting your damn stones!" I shouted.

"Well," Bobby yawned from the corner. "I see she's up." He stretched out on the cot before standing.

"Okay – " Dean spoke, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Look – I know right now we are all strangers to you. I know that it's hard for you to understand how we can say these things about a guy you've obviously came to trust, but you gotta believe me when I tell you he's no good, Addy. The dude lives for mayhem and broken promises. HE doesn't care about your life, because everyone is a pawn or a steeping stool."

"For what? What in the hell does he need me for?" Dean balked.

"There ain't no use in askin'," Bobby replied. "People ask all of the time – the day you've figured out why a demon does what he does – _you're dead_ or a demon yourself."

"Wow, that's nice and morbid," I commented, giving Bobby a distasteful look.

"But it's the truth," Gabriel tacked on. "And until you're fully trained, you will not speak to him or see him. Understood?" I contemplated him for a moment, wondering what the best course of action was and eventually shook my head up and down.

"Even if I agree, if I choose to see him – you can't stop me anyway," I told Gabriel cockily. "I saw in Bambi's head over there that it would take a fleet of you to stop me." Gabriel laughed long and hard.

"You're a Winchester alright," he giggled. "But yes – as true as that may be, you aren't fully trained yet. You _might_ be strong, but we still have ways of trapping you. You're like an infant."

"Crowley taught me defense."

"There's also more than one way to skin a cat," taunted Dean. Castiel turned to Dean and he held up a hand. "I'll explain the saying to you later, Cas."

"So what am I supposed to do now? Sit up here like a prisoner?"

"You can go anywhere you please, but –" Gabriel started a list, but I cut him off

"I want my parents. I want my family."

"You go within a block of that house and you'll get yourself killed."

"My dad will worry himself to death. I've already been gone about three months. He needs to see I'm okay."

"I've taken care of it."

"And that's that? _That's all there is_?"

"Until tomorrow, yes. Bobby and Dean need their rest, as do you, Addison."

"Don't – I have a lot of questions."

"I know you do," Gabriel assured me, touching my cheek, "but you also need rest." He touched his fingers to my head and I saw blackness….


End file.
